Complications
by TheSingingBlob
Summary: As Rose Weasley struggles with the concept of maintaining a difficult relationship, her mother faces some struggles of her own. But they both face the burning questions: what is right; and what is wrong? Sequel to Forbidden Fruit. Rose/Scorpius, R/Hr.
1. Necessary Discussions

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, nor does it belong to that guy from Leaky Cauldron. It is the sole property of a Ms. J. K. Rowling.  
A/N: This will become my first completed multi-chaptered fic. It is technically a sequel to the oneshot Forbidden Fruit, also Rose/Scorpius, though this story will be double-focused on Rose and Hermione. Much love goes out to my betas Nikki (UnSeriousSirius, GrimLupine--best stickler for grammar and sentence flow, let me tell you) and Colleen, who titled this story for me. Thanks to the rest of you for your support while I force my attempts at literature upon you. Reviews are extremely appreciated and also provide the Red Bull, one might say, or the stamina to keep this going.

_You do me so wrong  
But you love me so right  
There's more than one reason  
Why you shouldn't be in my life  
To tell you I don't want you no more would be a lie  
I gotta step back and accept the fact that  
you're my bad habit  
-_Joss Stone, Bad Habit

Chapter 1: Necessary Discussions

It had been three weeks since she decided she liked him. Two weeks since she kissed him, and a week since she broke up with her boyfriend.

It wasn't like she had planned to be head-over-heels mad for Scorpius Malfoy. Goodness no. She'd been raised to hate him since she was this high and, for the most part, she'd been successful. At the hating him part, anyway. Their rivalry would rival...well, pretty much any other rivalry one could think of. It was full on, family-on-family despising. And all had been going fairly well. Until now.

Or at least until a year or so ago, when he filled out, grew a good six inches, and let his voice stay in a lower register. It was easy to ignore the friction before he had the obvious advantage of both attractiveness and intimidating height. And it truly was intimidating, especially for Rose, who was an average height and frequently found herself in head-to-head battles with the now-giant Scorpius.

But it was about time that they had this conversation. The "what the hell are we going to do now" conversation. And she only called it that because that was the foremost question in her head. What were they going to do now, now that she'd kissed him in what was practically a dare, and she'd joked with her friends about him, and he basically had stepped up his game at every opportunity? It had almost gotten annoying. She thought that eighteen-year-olds (especially Head Boys) were far beyond pigtail pulling. She thought wrong. He continually proved himself to be the most immature, most infuriating, most confusing person she knew. And for some reason, she just couldn't tear herself away.

She'd passed him a note in Potions that morning that read, "meet me by lake at 7. we need to talk about this. -Rose." She had idly doodled some hearts in the corner of the paper before she gave it to him...hopefully he wouldn't get the wrong idea. This wouldn't be okay. They needed to have a conversation so she could settle it once and for all- they weren't going anywhere. Sure, Rose didn't want to...dash his hopes, or whatever, but they couldn't work, especially with their families. She'd just broken up with her boyfriend. Scorpius was a pain in the ass. Her list of reasons why this was a bad idea went on for a very long ways.

Right now, Rose was standing at the tree by the lake, waiting for Scorpius to show up. She didn't see him anywhere, and she slouched a little bit. If anything, she thought, he would be there before she would. Sighing, she twisted her foot back and forth in the grass, making a dirt spot. Her moment of idleness was interrupted as she was gripped from behind in an attempt to kidnap her...or, more likely, surprise her. Whoever it was took a step closer, bringing her back to their chest.

"Evening, Rosie." Scorpius grinned as if he'd just told a fabulous joke, and Rose's lips went thin. After looking up at him quickly, she whacked him in the arm.

"Merlin, Scorpius. If anyone had seen that, they would have thought you're out to kill me."

"What if I am?"

"If you are, I can report you to my mother, and you'll go to prison."

"Tattle-tale. What's the alternative?"

"What do you mean, 'what's the alternative?'"

"Well, if I wasn't out to kill you, then what would the alternative be?"

Rose paused to consider. "Well, the alternative would be me finishing this conversation with you about our little...um...classroom incident. You know, where we...and..."

"How could I forget? So, the alternative to you dying is having this conversation."

"Right."

"So what's the outcome of the conversation?" Scorpius asked, moving around to face her. Rose looked away on purpose.

"The outcome is that I tell you not to keep your hopes up, because we're never going to happen."

Scorpius feigned hurt. "Not going to happen? Why? What does that mean?"

"It means, you great prat, that I would never kiss you again unless you forced me into some random broom closet against my will and kissed me yourself." Rose paused for a long time before adding, "Not that I would enjoy that. Because I wouldn't."

Scorpius grinned, and before she knew it, he had jumped in the air to catch a tree branch, and was now dangling a good few inches off the ground. "I know you'll come to your senses eventually, Weasley. You won't be able to stay away for long."

There was just something about him that pushed Rose past 'annoyed' to the brink of anger quicker than anything else could. She turned around to deliver her last parting line. "I'll come to my senses when you come to yours!" With that, she headed back towards the castle.

When she was clearly out of sight, Scorpius dropped off the branch and frowned. "To be honest, I'd rather go to prison."

--


	2. Notice

Disclaimer: (in a singsong voice) Not mine, not mine, only the plot and the story is mine, not mine, not mine, all the good stuff belongs to JK Rowling...  
A/N: Initially the chapter you read as Chapter 1 and this one were the same chapter, but I separated them for some important reasons. That is why they will both be posted at once (also to introduce both plots.) Most chapters will be longer than this one. Again, thanks to betas, and thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to send me a review! They mean so much and help move the story along!

_And the damage you've done  
we can mend it  
the world can still be  
beautiful  
-Song for the Death Eaters_, Harry and the Potters

Chapter 2: Notice

Hermione Weasley was a busy woman.

A very, very, very busy working career woman, who dealt with a plateful of things that she never wanted to deal with. Ever. Sometimes it made her grateful that her children were on their way to being grown up and were away at boarding school. Sometimes the work just made her miss them more.

During a day of sorting through her massive pile of papers (usually she was very neat and tidy, but today was an exception), she found an important ministry memo that she had not opened. It read:

MEMO

TO: Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley, Department of Magical Law Enforcement

RE: IMPORTANT NOTICE

In your area, some blatant Death Eater action has been registered by an Underage Wizard. These actions have been deemed UNACCEPTABLE by the Ministry Committee for the Regulation of Suspicious Activity and DOUGAL MCKEEL's sentencing will be pending trial by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Please take the necessary precautions to keep your home and your person safe.

Sincerely,

Genna Reynolds  
Ministry Committee for the Regulation of Suspicious Activity

Hermione gaped at it for a long moment before crumpling it up and dropping it into her trash bin. It wasn't fair. After all the work they'd done, after all the struggle and efforts to retain peace in the wizarding community, people were still influenced and inspired by the Death Eater movement that began nearly four decades prior. It blew her mind. And on top of that, being that it was the chief concern of the Department, she would be in charge of his prosecution. It wouldn't be fair to put a case of this importance in the hands of an intern, or even someone younger than her by a few years. This case would be her responsibility. After all, she did know far more than most about the Death Eater community. Hermione hated to even think about it. It brought back painful memories of suffering and death and loss that she attempted to repress on a daily basis. The pensieve in her office was more than full of memories she'd tried to set aside. She kept the most comfortable ones in her own head.

And not only was the notice about Death Eater activity, but the Death Eater activity of a child! Dougal McKeel couldn't have been older than eighteen, an age her own daughter had just recently reached. Death Eaters nowadays most commonly faced the harshest punishment- death. After the War, the Ministry had favored total eradication of the Death Eater community. Those remaining were sentenced to death or a lifetime in prison, and the former was the more common choice. But would they let a child die?

They would if he was a threat, that was for damned sure. Hermione wondered if he went to school with her son and daughter- and if he did, he would definitely know that they were a healthy mix of mudblood and blood traitor, which meant that her own children were targets. Targets for terrible violence. It was her responsibility to keep her children safe, wasn't it? Even if it was at the expense of someone else's child?

That was the thing Hermione hated most about her job: dealing with the gray areas. She preferred life in black and white.

She picked up her things to go home, where things were familiar. Home would be her haven for the next few months, away from the Death Eater situation turning her life upside-down.


	3. Trapped

Disclaimer: sounds like a broken record  
A/N: The "this is" section at the beginning of the piece was influenced by a poem by Jamaica Kincaid (correct me if that's misspelled. or if misspelled is misspelled. yikes). Again, this was the first part of what was initially the second chapter, but I feel that it can stand on its own, along with the second half. Thanks for reading!

_You only hold me up like this  
cause you don't know who I really am  
I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive  
Now I only waste it dreaming of you  
-Of All The Gin Joints In All The World_, Fall Out Boy

Chapter 3: Trapped

Rose hated first years. They stuck their nose into business that wasn't theirs, broke all the rules, and were easily the most clueless people on the Hogwarts campus. It was like she had to teach them everything: this is how the stairs work, this is how you pack your bag right for class, this is how you write an essay without spilling the ink, these are the rules, this is the map, these are your books for required reading. It got old very quickly. This afternoon was no exception, and after having received notice that someone was performing spell practice on an antique painting in a fifth floor corridor, Rose was out to lay down the law.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a strong hand gripped her shoulder from behind. Rose had half a mind to yell out, but only a small squeak escaped her lips before she was pushed into a spare broom closet. Turning around to either hex someone or just let herself out of the closet, she found there was someone in her way. Deliberately in her way. In fact, he was so much in her way that he was practically embracing her. But the word 'embrace' was too delicate for Scorpius. "What the bloody hell are you doing?!" she protested, wriggling a little under his arms. "I have Head Girl duties and I was on my way to go take care of something highly important, but then you pulled me in here for Merlin knows what reason, and now...You know, you do have this very odd tendency to trap people-"

Scorpius laughed before cutting her off. "I nearly forgot how much you go on sometimes. Thank you for reminding me that you're entirely mental. You told me that the only way you would ever do anything even slightly romantic with me again was if I forced you into a broom cupboard. And so, Rosie, can you tell me where we are?"

She rolled her eyes and grumbled. "A broom cupboard." She should have known. He would stoop to nothing to have his way. "Let me remind you," she carried on, "that this is a form of coercion and under any sort of legal counsel..." By this point he had lowered his face to her level and was brushing his nose gently against her neck. It surprised her that he could even manage gentle. Rose lost her train of thought as he carried on. "Stop it. Stop it right now. Scorpius Malfoy, I am warning you, if you don't..."

He lifted his almost frighteningly green eyes to her surprised hazel ones and raised an eyebrow. "You made me a promise, Weasley. Make good on it."

"I did NOT promise you in any sense of the word."

"You said that unless I forced you into a broom cupboard and kissed you myself you would not kiss me. So I figure this is okay."

"No, it's most certainly NOT okay! You just forced me into a broom closet and practically pinned me and-"

"Had my way with you? Don't flatter yourself, Rosie, it's not attractive in a girl of your age and position to flatter themselves."

Rose nearly hacked in his face at his complete and utter ridiculousness. "My age and position? What the hell does that mean? And I will be as unattractive as I bloody well please, thank you very much. Now, I might discuss your...infatuation with me if you would kindly take your hands off of me, thank you."

Scorpius begrudgingly let go of her. He was embarrassing himself, a little bit. "Okay, you want to talk about it? I'll talk about it with you. I think it has something to do with the fact you pushed me against a wall in an empty classroom after lying to your boyfriend, or the obnoxious way you eat an apple every morning, or that you've always been almost as good as me at everything, or that little glare you send my way when I've said just the right thing" (at this point, Rose mumbled 'wrong thing') "and you are so set in your stance that you could probably crack walnuts at Christmastime with your teeth...okay, maybe not, but you just..." He sighed. He didn't know what else he could say. She was everything he wanted and everything he couldn't have. Damn Weasley.

Rose bit back her own sigh and glanced at the floor. "I just...what?" She'd forgotten about whatever Head Girl duties she'd had before, as she'd just been compared to a nutcracker and Scorpius Malfoy in the same sentence. But he was being straightforward with her, like nobody else she'd ever met in her life. Even her parents weren't that straightforward.

Scorpius reached a hand to her face and gently let it rest on her cheek. This time she didn't flinch. "Would you give it a chance? Look at you, look at me, we're the perfect match. Head Boy, Head Girl, Quidditch captains, sworn enemies since we were this high-" he motioned with his free hand- "but you don't notice any of that, do you? Or maybe you do. I don't know. Isn't that usually how it works? When you think you hate someone, you actually just..." (he took a moment to swallow here) "feel really strongly about them?" That was what he had managed. It was better than what Parsons had suggested the evening before when they were discussing this (You're great, I'm great, everyone probably already thinks we're shagging, so why not?) but it sounded like it was...really...tender. And not charming. Not charming at all.

Rose thought he'd probably rehearsed it or pulled it out of some novel or whatever. But he was so sincere (or seemingly so, at least) that she couldn't help but give it a quick thought. But they couldn't just keep meeting like this, not in a closet. What if someone needed it? "I'll think about it," she said, before adding, "as long as I'm not making any promises, you don't randomly jump me in the hall, and nobody hears about this. Can you meet me somewhere?"

Scorpius laughed. "Can I? Yes, I do have the ability to meet you somewhere."

"Would you stop being a child? If you want to talk again, meet me by the lake at 7:30 tomorrow evening. No creepiness. Leave that with your...cronies, your boyfriends, whoever. And we're not going to tell anyone about this."

"Would I? You've been entirely impossible. I only discuss women with my 'boyfriends' when they-"

"Let you shag them, right. Fortunately for me I hold myself in greater esteem. Promise me."

"Fine. Promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Good lord, Rose."

And with that, she left the closet, slamming the door behind her. She had way too much to think about. As did he, and he watched her go with an odd mixture of contentment and disappointment. This was going to be difficult.


	4. Missing the Point

Disclaimer: Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhht mine.  
A/N: longest chapter yet, I believe. thanks to betas! r&r if you wish :)

_Woah now, think I'm goin down  
friends don't know what's with me  
you got me trippin, stumblin  
flippin, bumblin  
...clumsy 'cause I'm fallin in love...  
-Clumsy, _Fergie

Chapter 4: Missing The Point

Rose bit into her nails like one might a good cookie (although it didn't taste nearly as nice). Last time she had run into Scorpius (or rather, he had come up behind her, shoved her in a closet, and proposed that they date), she had promised him another conversation. What on earth she was thinking, though, she didn't have the slightest idea. And the idea she did have- that Scorpius was growing on her, that there was something about his infatuation combined with that strange thing that he did that struck fear into the hearts of...um...everyone...that she found endearing. And he had his points. There was some sort of inevitability to a relationship between the two of them. Not that she was going to promise him anything else, of course. She wasn't that type of girl.

Or so she thought. But as Rose had noticed lately, her actions weren't predictable, and her thoughts often contradicted themselves. Speaking of her thoughts, Rose was so wrapped up in them that she walked into a wall of the bridge, her forehead making a nice, loud thud against the ancient brick. "Bloody fabulous," she muttered, looking to see where she was going and rubbing her forehead.

According to the plans they'd made, she was supposed to meet Scorpius at the lake in fifteen minutes. As of that moment, she was on track for being early. Rose always liked being early. Punctuality was something she valued in a person. Today, though, she wouldn't mind being a little bit late. This was a conversation that she would put off if she could.

Her walk turned into a stroll, and here and there she twirled in a step. Wasting time was foreign to Rose, but she liked it. She enjoyed it like she didn't know was possible. For once, she had no idea how much time had passed as she traveled from A to B, though she estimated it was about twenty minutes. The fact that Scorpius was already at the meeting spot at the lake when she arrived there was more than a sign she was late.

"Thought you'd never come," he said, eyeing her almost suspiciously.

"Me? Why?" Rose knew what he was getting at. And for once, she didn't seem to care.

"Oh, you know why. You seem to have an odd allergy to having conversations with me."

She bit back a giggle. He couldn't know that sometimes, once in a while, she thought he was funny. "Ah. Allergy. Well, it's more of a sensitivity. You know how that is."

"I do understand that, yes. So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"...I think I changed my mind."

"What did you change your mind about?"

"...I'm not sure."

"I think I know what you changed your mind about."

"Don't be so sure of yourself." He grinned, and Rose grinned too.

"For the first time in a while, I don't think I am."

The following day, Rose woke up after a very long and tiring dream. Really, she'd woken up more tired than she was when she went to sleep. And for the rest of the day she'd be reliving it...

_"Rose."_

_"Scorpius." The moon shined on the courtyard, its reflection evident in the undersides of the leaves of the surrounding bushes. The air was still and quiet, but chilly, as the air should be at night. Scorpius was wearing a suit, and Rose a sleek black dress. She didn't know why she was there in the first place, but she knew she was supposed to be. "You're on time."_

_"I try." He smiled easily and a light wind swept across the courtyard, shaking the bushes. Rose's hair blew into her face. "You look beautiful."_

_"Me?" Rose laughed gently and felt warmth in her cheeks despite the light breeze that had picked up._

_"Dance with me," he said, and took her hand, swirling her about the courtyard. The dancing carried on for hours until Rose's feet were sore- waltzes, tangoes, any sort of dance she could remember. _

_"What was that all about?" she asked, and she realized how close they were. Her arms were looped around his neck, and his breath was soft on her face. The sun was coming up._

_"I don't know," he said, and let the ends of his mouth curve up in a little grin. And then he disappeared._

It was thoroughly disturbing. Especially when they had a game that day. It was Rose's job to be on top of things- and when her mind was off somewhere in la-la-land, how was she going to call plays or catch Quaffles or any of the other necessary things she had to do? How was she going to stay on her broom!? Today more than ever, Rose wished that she had a Pensieve in her possesion. She dressed quickly in her Quidditch gear, hurrying down to the Great Hall to grab an apple (this took longer than expected, since quite a few people stopped her at Gryffindor table) before running out to the pitch. Her entire team had beat her there, which added to the embarrassment of her morning.

"Uh, uhm, good morning, first off," Rose said, addressing her team. "As you all know, this is a very important match, and, erm..."

Her brother, Hugo, who played Chaser for Gryffindor, was always the first to spot things about Rose. They had been very close, especially as the two of them only had each other. As such, he was the first to notice her ears redden with embarrassment on this particular morning. Rose was clearly flustered. "Oi, Rose," he interjected, trying to help her along. "Just get to the point. We're all going to blast Slytherin, we're going to be great, blah, blah, blah..."

"Uhm, right. So, we're going to beat Slytherin, and-"

Hugo again hurried to her aid. "Look, okay. Chasers, we're going to do the V-Pattern formation in the first half, unless something happens. Then we'll have a chat if we need to fix something."

Another chaser, Ariane Marcos, looked up at Hugo in confusion. "V-Pattern? Really? Because I was thinking that if we just pressed forward and did a loop around..."

Hugo cut her off. He figured he'd just give everyone instructions, including his cousin, Lily, who'd joined the team as the Seeker after Larkin, the previous Seeker, nearly failed Potions and had to drop off the team. "Sure, that works. And you, Lily, you just do what you do. What do you do, anyway? Just...go look for the Snitch. Beaters, just...hit the bludgers at the Slytherins, especially if you think they're going to score. You know what you're supposed to do. Anyway. And Rose, you catch stuff. Or hit it away. Whatever works." He beamed at his sister, glad to be of some help.

"Right, thanks, Hugh. So, you heard the man!" Rose had taken the time during her brother's pep talk to gather her thoughts and get it together. "We're going to win this game, Gryffindors! Go! Go out and be great! On three, ready? One, two, three-"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

The game had been fast-paced. A score for Gryffindor, two for Slytherin. Three more for Slytherin. One for Gryffindor. Four more for Slytherin. And not a single save by Rose. The Quaffle whizzed by her ear, her leg, her hand more than once. As of now, nine times. The girl was _distracted. _Of course, it didn't help that her dream replayed every time the Snitch entered the Gryffindor half of the pitch, or that her sensory memory thought it was a fabulous time to remember his breath on her skin and his hands on her waist...it was more than a hopeless case, it was just over. They weren't going to win the game, the cup, and Rose certainly wasn't going to win her argument. She felt it was time for some sort of resignation. Resignation was difficult when you were caught in the midst of an athletic event. And yet, it grew even more appealing to Rose every time Scorpius flew past, his blonde hair (it was growing out) whipping around his forehead and his ears, grin plastered to his face. He'd get within inches of the Snitch, look up momentarily and catch eyes with her, then miss it by a long shot.

This happened more than once.

Neither team was quite satisfied with their captain's performance:

"Ariane, catch! Keep the ball up! Make sure it doesn't enter the second half!"

"Hugo, I am _trying_! But it's not my job to be your sister's _mother_! Isn't she supposed to be our captain?"

"Scorpius! Catch the bloody snitch!"

"That ball was in your fingers, Weasley! We are buggered for the chance to win this cup. You're a-"

"LANGUAGE, KYLE!"

"Sorry..."

"And that's the thirteenth miss for Gryffindor captain and Keeper Rose Weasley, well, they do say the fourteenth time's the charm. Oh-oh, oh, wait, no, that went in. 140-50, Slytherin. It's looking like a poor season for Gryffindor! They're currently three and one and one this season. We'll be looking for improvement if they want- awww, 150-50, Slytherin. Come on, Weasley, being on the rag is no excuse for playing poorly!"

"KYLE! Merlin help me, Kyle, if you make one more inappropriate comment, I-"

"And our gorgeous headmistress, who doesn't look a day over 25, believes this a prudent time for me to remind the audience that appropriate behavior is expected from all attending students, announcer included- oh, and a fantastic score by Gryffindor chaser Ariane Marcos, who has been playing for the team nearly two years. Youngest player since Harry Potter, she is. And probably best looking, too."

"Kyle, I told you, if you want to go about that, do it in the Common Room. I am quite often downstairs in the evenings..."

"OY! ARIANE! MAY I REMIND YOU THAT WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A GAME HERE! BRING YOUR SHITTY NIMBUS OVER FROM THE ANNOUNCER'S BOX AND CATCH THE QUAFFLE! DAMN IT, WE ARE PICKING UP MY SISTER'S SLACK! GET YOUR HEAD ON THE FIELD, PLEASE. SAVE THE SHAMELESS FLIRTING FOR THE HOGSMEADE TRIP!"

"And we are seeing a nice piece of the younger Weasley's famed Irish temper...usually he's very mild mannered, but I would say he's jealous. Would anyone else call that shameless? I wouldn't-"

"This is your Headmistress. The score is now 170-60- you've missed a few through Mr. Jordan's fantastic narration. So far, the Slytherin side has had a couple of close calls with the Snitch by captain Scorpius Malfoy. Unfortunately, captain Rose Weasley for the Gryffindor side has had more than a few misses. Please get it together, dear, I'd like to see a good game this morning."

Rose ducked her head in shame, trying to keep anyone (okay, sure, one person in particular) from seeing her ears redden...and her cheeks, and her forehead, and her fingers, and any other piece of visible skin. She had been playing poorly...and as she ducked her head, the Quaffle zipped above her and into the ring she had been guarding moments before. She heard the bell sound announcing the score: 180-60.

Meanwhile, Scorpius circled the pitch. His job, technically, was to look for the Snitch, but this particular morning he didn't really care and was sure the ball had flown back and forth in front of his face at least a dozen times. It was blatantly obvious that his mind was elsewhere. And at this point, he felt catching the Snitch would be unnecessary being that his team was on top of their scoring game today. They could win without him.

* * *

Rose's eyes popped open when she heard a blaring whistle and a shout from the Gryffindor side of the pitch.

"AND IT'S LILY POTTER WITH THE SNITCH! THAT'S A TIE GAME, FOLKS, 210 ALL! Good game, I suppose."

The game had gone as follows- Rose had missed every shot towards the Gryffindor goal, so Slytherin was able to score 210 points. Scorpius had been unable to catch the Snitch, so with the 60 points Gryffindor had scored and Lily's catch of the Golden Snitch, the game had ended up a draw. The captains flew towards the center of the pitch for the customary end-of-game handshake, and with considerable hesitancy, grabbed hands.

It acted like a switch- Rose's eyes caught those of Scorpius, and she knew in that instant that something was different between them. She wasn't even sure how long they were shaking hands, or if they were even shaking hands at all. They must have looked incredibly silly for a good few moments. The corner of Scorpius's lips curled up in his devious smile, and Rose let go of his hands but somehow they had developed a certain understanding during the handshake. She landed as fast as she possibly could, needing to sort out a couple of things in her head.

She was not greeted with the usual enthusiasm of her team, or her brother, or her cousin. Everybody was annoyed with her. Everybody. Hugo, who was generally her biggest supporter and best friend, chucked a Quaffle at her. Rose, ever the reactionary, caught it in a reflexive move as it flew at her face. "Why couldn't you do that earlier?" he spat, kicking a locker in disgust. Rose couldn't hide her surprise. "Great job today, captain. You know, we really needed a win today. I don't know what's with you." He pulled a t-shirt over his head, grabbed his bag, and stomped out of the Gryffindor locker. Fortunately, none of the other players were her brother, so none of the rest of them could talk to her like that. Lily, kind soul that she was, tried to hide her disappointment. "You know," she said, quietly, "I really would have liked to have won today. I tried hard today, Rose."

"You did a great job, Lily."

"You didn't even see my catch. See you in the common room," she added, picking up her own bag and running out to catch up with Hugo. The rest of the team filed out in a similar fashion. Rose, though, didn't care as much as she would any other day, because today something was different. She had to see Scorpius.

* * *


	5. Decision

Disclaimer: ...  
A/N: Thanks to those that are still reading. I appreciate it! :) Sorry the chapters are so short. I've been working on that. The next chapter should be longer.

_Your brain is faulty wiring  
the reason for tiring  
Keep treating the curse,  
Imagine the worst  
Systematic, sympathetic  
Quite pathetic, apologetic, paramedic  
Your heart is prosthetic_  
-_X Amount of Words, _Blue October

* * *

"Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley. ...Hermione? Hello?!"

"Mmmnnhh?" Hermione opened an eye to realize she'd been sleeping. She had stayed up most of the night before thinking about Dougal McKeel, the Death Eater teenager. Could it really be that there were Death Eaters again? Years and years after the defeat of Voldemort? It was painful to think about. When she noticed that someone was there, waiting for a response on her part, she stood up straight and smoothed her hair and her shirt back into place. "I'm sorry. Of course. What do you need?" How embarrassing, being caught sleeping at her desk!

The intern who had woken her from her nap dropped a file on Hermione's desk. "I'm sorry for bothering you, it's just...someone wanted me to give you this case, and I think you've already seen something about it. All the papers are in there, and if you could read those and get back to Genna that would be great. I'll just...leave now. Thanks." And with that, the intern scurried out of her office.

Hermione tentatively opened the case file, already knowing what would be inside it. The McKeel case. And she wasn't disappointed when she saw the papers.

DOUGAL McKEEL  
SUSPICIOUS PERSONS FILE  
REGISTERED ACTIVITY: has attempted unforgivable curses, rejected acceptance to hogwarts, recent visit to town of little hangleton uk for "further study", has evaded ministry visits, recent purchases in knockturn alley  
STATUS: 16. Lives with sq mother, mg father. Under 24-hour ministry (auror) watch.  
LEVEL: Class 1  
SUGGESTED RESPONSE: trial. ministry supports execution for further eradication of d.e. following

The papers were quickly filled out in department-recognizable chicken scratch and abbreviations- sq for Squib, mg for Muggle, de for Death Eater. So little information, and yet Hermione felt she knew his story. Knew what he was up against. McKeel had been found, and he was going to die. Die, at a tender 16. The age of her own son, the one with the big smile and the mussed hair and his father's nose and freckles and big hands who told long stories and savored his friendships and cared about school. Sixteen. At sixteen she had been saving the world. At sixteen, Dougal McKeel was going to die.

He was going to die in her hands. Her willing hands. Her hands, in which gold coins would be felt in payment for his execution.

She was going to benefit from the death of a child. Hermione dropped the case file on her desk and stared at it for what must have been hours. It was her job. She protected the masses, fended against evil and darkness and everything that accompanied it. And yet...she was the bringer of bad news, arbiter of inequality, murderer. Poor boy. It was a conundrum. Save the world from ignorance and racism and any other sort of ism one could think of, benefit her kind and keep her children safe...kill a child who hasn't seen more than just his corner of the world and doesn't know of love or of light or of travel and is sheltered and is a part of his secluded box, take a son from loving, if confused parents. Why was her life always so complicated? Why couldn't she ever have anything easy? Hermione thought she was done fighting for a long time, and then the universe just happened to spring this on her.

What to do?

Well, the most important thing to do, or at least the first thing to do, was to organize her desk. She knew she had no choice in taking the case- what would the Ministry say if she rejected it? Would she lose her job? She liked her job, despite uncomfortable situations it put her in every now and again. Would she fail on purpose, or was it right for him to die? Sighing, Hermione tossed the envelope back on the desk and readjusted a clip in her hair.

All Hermione knew to do- at least for now- was to think on it. And to send Genna Reynolds, head of the Ministry Committee for the Regulation of Suspicious Activity a letter. Pulling out her best quill and sucking on the nib of it quickly to get the ink flowing more freely, she set out to write her letter. After a few drafts, it looked like this:

_Re: McKeel File_

_To Ms. G. Reynolds, MCRSA:_

_After recently receiving the McKeel file, I have decided that it is my duty and responsibility as a mother and as a citizen of the global community to accept the McKeel case given my background with dangerous persons. This is a serious ordeal, and I am honored to be your chosen representative from the Department of Law Enforcement. Please note that the sentence will be pending a further review of his case file._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Weasley_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

She still didn't like the current version of the letter, but decided that six drafts were quite enough and it wouldn't get much better than this. But one thing was for sure: she was definitely on the case.

* * *


	6. The Rise and Fall of the Weasleys Pt 1

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: Almost the entire star scene came from a conversation we had about the stars on the Fourth of July (firework day). The only ones I could remember were Sirius and Polaris. Rose's infatuation with the stars is shared with me. They're basically the best things ever. Thanks again to Colleen, who is betaing for me until my beta comes back from traveling the world. Also I'm annoyed with fanfiction for deleting my pretty line ruler. It involved curly pretty things. :( Anyway, on with the show!

_Kiss me and tell me it's not broken  
__kiss me and kiss me til I'm dead  
__See, I'll give you the stars  
__from the bruised evenin sky  
__and a crown of jewels for your head, now...  
__-To You I Bestow, _Mundy

Chapter 6: The Rise and Fall of The Weasley Women Part One- The Rise

Together they had chosen a meeting place- that particular broom closet from days before. Rose was able to expand it a little (thank goodness for seventh year Charms) and there were some crates in there that they were able to sit on, when they felt like sitting, of course. Scorpius had soundproofed it, at Rose's request. She had finally caved to his bizarre affections, under the terms of her choosing, the most important being that any sort of relationship they were to have would be kept completely secret. Scorpius didn't mind, except for the fact that he would have to lose a few bets with his friends- sure, he was _with _Rose, but if nobody could know about it what sort of good would it do? You know, other than them actually being together.

On spare afternoons, or breaks between classes, or times when the two of them were actually _supposed_ to be doing their Head Boy and Girl duties, they met at the broom cupboard. Sometimes they sat there and talked about anything and everything- Rose's Muggle grandparents, exactly why Rose liked to eat apples for breakfast, the decor in Malfoy Manor, occasionally Quidditch tactics. Sometimes they didn't do any talking at all. Rose was surprised at how easy it was to be with him when they weren't at each other's throats. He laughed easily and often and was unusually knowledgable about worldly topics- literature, religion, politics, travel. He'd been rather privileged growing up and his parents (and all their inherited wealth) took him on trips all over, to America, to Brazil, to Africa, all over Europe. He told Rose about the narrow streets of Italy and safaris he'd taken and being in Washington D.C. and seeing the White House where the President of the United States lived. She never thought he could be so interesting before- he'd never really given her the opportunity to see this side of him. Usually he was just a jackass, but it came with the territory, she supposed. But she felt herself growing increasingly attached to him, his little laughs and his stories and the way he loved to hold her hand. Still, she would never meet him outside of that closet. When they saw each other in the hallway, they usually did nothing but give each other a good long glare. Sometimes in class, Scorpius would tug on her hair as he walked past, or squeeze her shoulder, to which she responded with nothing. Or if they had to work together in Potions, which they occasionally did, Scorpius would whisper things to her quietly that nobody was ever meant to hear and Rose would try very hard not to smack him. People weren't even supposed to know that they were on speaking terms.

They were, though, ever since that Quidditch game a few weeks before. After the match, Rose had walked down by the lake to think, and he was already there. She found herself running to him, as if she had something very important to say, and he took her by the shoulders and kissed her until she realized she didn't want to say anything at all in the first place. That was when they had decided they needed a secluded space to meet from then on. Luckily nobody had caught them the first time at the lake.

Today they met as soon as class ended. It was a Friday, and they wouldn't have to worry about homework that night. Or at least, Rose wouldn't. She found herself heading to the room quicker than usual, and upon entering found Scorpius already there. He was sitting on one of the overturned crates, thinking. About what, though, Rose could only wonder. Smiling up towards her, Scorpius pulled Rose onto his lap and kissed her gently. "Hey," he whispered, and it was clear to Rose that he had something else he wanted to say.

"Hey," she answered back just as quietly. Her ears and cheeks always turned that embarrassed color of pink when he kissed her. It was such a change from how they used to be that sometimes she didn't know what to think when he acted sweet to her.

"I had an idea," he said, putting little kisses on her face as if he was trying to lessen an impending blow.

Rose giggled for a moment, turning her head. "That tickles, Scor! Oh, sorry- what idea?"

"Well, you like astronomy, right?"

"Of course...what does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm getting to that. The astronomy tower is open tonight, Rose. Apparently the stars are going to be clearer than usual. Some celestial...whatever, I wasn't entirely listening when the professor was going on about it."

Rose scoffed. "Not surprised."

"Not the point. You were sort of wrapped up in whatever you were looking at in your telescope."

"Saturn."

"Still not the point. Come up to the tower with me tonight, we'll go look at the stars, or Saturn, or something."

Rose hesitated. Going somewhere with him other than the broom cupboard or the lake was out of her comfort zone. "...like a date?"

"No, like me and you going to look at the stars. Different, right?"

She was torn. Seeing the stars from the tower at midnight...that was rare. Usually students weren't allowed in the corridors after hours. And they would be beautiful. She always loved stars. On the other hand, other students would be around in the corridors, or possibly at the tower, and they could be seen together. But then again, it would be dark...

"Say yes, Rose. For me, say yes, one time? Please?" He nudged her cheek with his nose. "Please, Rosie?"

How could she say no? Not when he was begging (Fact: Scorpius never begged) and when he was asking her to see the stars with him- how romantic, really. "Yes," she answered, sighing in defeat. "But we have to meet each other there, we can't go up there together."

"Fine."

"And...you can kiss me once we're there but I would like to see the stars. That's kind of the point."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Thank you for being so generous, your highness. I will be sure to cater to your every demand."

"You best do." Rose giggled, surprisingly unfazed by his sarcasm. "Otherwise, you will suffer the consequences, and they will be dour. I may just have to lock you in the dungeons."

"Dungeons?" Scorpius leaned his forehead against hers and smirked. "Would you leave after you locked me in the dungeons?"

"I don't know, would you want me to leave?"

"Of course not. The dungeons would only be bearable if I could see you through the little bars in the door."

"Oh? Well, in that case, I would have to leave you after I locked you in the dungeons."

Scorpius mocked being wounded. "Rose! Then I would surely die!"

"What a shame." She feigned disinterest.

"Shame for you, maybe, given what you would miss..." He cocked an eyebrow and then kissed her, first her nose, then her chin, then her jaw, and followed around her face until Rose squealed.

"Okay! Okay! So maybe I'd watch you while you were in the dungeon."

"See, that would be all right."

"Glad it's settled, then." And it was. Rose was finally caving, bit by bit. She would be meeting him in the extremely high astronomy tower at midnight. She would take the long trek up the spiral staircases so that she could be in reaching distance of the brightest stars, hugging distance of the moon, and kissing distance of Scorpius. The thought of the night that was in front of her made her smile- no, more than that. It gave her butterflies in the best sort of way. And also, unfortunately, the worst. "So I'll see you later, then."

"Sure."

Kissing him quickly once, Rose straightened herself out and left the cupboard to head back to Gryffindor common room. Scorpius, like always, hung back to think.

* * *

Rose had nearly finished climbing to the top of the Astronomy tower, only slightly out of breath. On her way up she had passed two teachers to whom she had to explain the situation- it was an open stargazing night at the tower, and she needed, please, to go up to the top to get ahead on an Astronomy project. It astounded her how easily the lie came. Sure, she was going to the tower, but she would be facing a different project entirely. As she walked out onto the stone of the tower roof and felt the nipping chill of the midnight air, the last student remaining on the tower left to go to bed. She didn't blame him- it was so late.

There was a little concrete bench in the center of the circular tower, and Rose realized she was more exhausted than she thought. The bench suddenly looked very comfortable to her, and she sat, almost forgetting why she'd come to the tower in the first place: to see the stars. One quick glance up and Rose gasped and couldn't look away. Even at home, she'd never seen stars this beautiful. They blanketed the sky so that it seemed almost entirely brilliant white instead of dark purple, like the sky was supposed to look. It was so muddled that Rose could hardly pick out her favorite constellations, though she did get a few. Cassiopeia. Andromeda. Pegasus. For once, she was happy that Hogwarts was so incredibly isolated.

"Wow," Rose whispered, feeling that it was not enough to just think the word. All of a sudden, Rose got the feeling she was not alone, and she was proven right when she felt a strong hand rest on the small of her back.

"Wow what?"

Rose was too amazed to be annoyed. "Look."

Scorpius took a seat on the bench next to Rose, moving the hand that was currently on her to hug her around her waist. Rose wrapped her fingers around his and he smiled and took it as a good sign. "Look at what?"

"Scorpius, really."

He laughed, though quietly. It was easy to tell that, for whatever reason, Rose was enthralled by the stars. He tipped his head back so he could see better, and in that moment he knew why Rose loved astronomy so much. "Beautiful," said Scorpius, in the same sort of breathless tone as she had.

"Good idea, Scor."

"I tend to have a lot of them."

"Shut up."

"Okay." Glancing in Rose's direction, he couldn't help but grin a little. Not only was she so incredibly intent on watching the sky, but the brilliance from the sky reflected off her face. It looked like she was glowing a little bit. Rose sighed softly and dropped her head gently onto his shoulder. Scorpius bit his lip in a form of self restraint. More than anything right now, he wanted to kiss her anywhere that she would let him, but it was his own sort of sacrifice for her to just let her gaze at the stars.

"Do you think there's life after you die?" she asked, her voice sort of dreamy. He was a little surprised by the question.

"...not really, why?"

"I think that I would like living in the stars when I die. Wouldn't that be perfect, though? It would be beautiful all the time. I never get tired of stars."

"...if you want to do that, then I'm sure it'll happen."

Rose smiled. "You think?"

"Yeah, why not?"

Beaming now, she moved to peck his cheek, but Scorpius couldn't help himself this time. Quickly he turned his head so she caught his lips instead. Rose watched him, surprised. He just moved his hands to the side of her face and held her there. Rose felt like protesting for a fleeting moment- she wanted to watch the stars!- but couldn't tear herself away when she felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip. _Oh, hell, _she thought as she found her hands moving up his chest towards his shoulders, _I might as well just give up now. _All of her attempts to deny their situation were over. Hit and sunk. Scorpius was moving his lips around her ear (which was definitely a dark color of red by now) when she finally remembered where they were. "Scor," she muttered, mustering the breath support to finish her sentence, "we're here to see stars, remember?"

Slightly flustered, he pulled away from her. "Right. St-stars, right." Out of the corner of his eye he watched Rose fold her hands in her lap. Well, it was better than not having gotten to kiss her at all. Reaching towards her he took one of her hands out of her lap, and with the light from the sky he could see pink stain her cheeks.

"See that one?" she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder again. "That's Sirius, the dog star. It's my favorite one. You have a favorite star?"

Of course he didn't. He'd been in Astronomy for years because he thought it would be another thing he could beat Rose at. Quite the opposite, however. Scorpius didn't have a clue about very many stars; he'd skipped out on his homework more times than he wished to count. Besides, astronomy didn't matter anyway. So he just named the only one he knew. "Polaris. North star."

"Did you know," Rose started, pointing it out to him in the sky, "they say that if you get lost, and you follow that star, you can find your way home. But just a myth, I don't think it would really work if you were lost." She seemed to ponder this for a long moment. "What if you lived in the west? Then following the north star would do nothing for you except leave you completely buggered...right?"

Scorpius chuckled. "Right, of course." It amazed him how she was completely without restraint- her thoughts seemed to flow straight from her brain to her tongue and then to the open air. It was impressive, to say the least. He couldn't think of a single other person he knew that would do that- or maybe she was just comfortable around him. She _trusted _him. Or at least, trusted him enough to say what she thought around him, and that was enough. The idea hit him like a rogue bludger. Trust. It was a foreign concept. Perhaps, rules and all, they could make this work. Eventually, Scorpius was popped out of his thoughts by an audible yawn from Rose.

"I'm sleepy," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. "I...have to go back to Gryffindor tower." The walk back was going to be brutal on her tired body. Down stairs, up stairs, in spirals...most could barely handle it awake.

"Okay."

"Help me?"

"Of course," answered Scorpius, and he helped lift her from under her arms to a standing position. "I'll walk you back to the right staircase, but you'll have to go in yourself. I don't know the password, unfortunately."

Rose's eyes narrowed in his direction. Scorpius couldn't tell if she was joking or not. "You only wish you did, Slytherin," and at that he knew she was only kidding. Was she? "I'm not going to tell you ever." He laughed. She sounded as if she'd had one too many gulps of Firewhisky. But it was just that combination of tiredness and lack of restraint that made her sound that way. Not that he minded much. It was adorable. "Even though you're a Slytherin," she mumbled sleepily, and Scorpius started paying attention again, "I still like you."

"I still like you, too, even though you're completely tired and are making a bit of an arse of yourself."

"Don't care."

"Didn't think so. Let's get you home, shall we?" And she obliged.


	7. The Rise and Fall of the Weasleys Pt 2

Disclaimer: Not only do I not own the original plot or characters of the Harry Potter book, but I didn't come up with the magazine Charmed Life, either. Those familiar with the Sugar Quill would recognize it as a tabloid from the story At The End, by Arabella and Zsenya. Though they will probably never read this, I owe much of my fanfiction inspiration to their lovely writing style and plot. Thanks to them for the hours upon hours upon months of time they put in on that story, because I go back to read it frequently when I feel my own writing needs some help. If you are not familiar with the website or the story, GO GET FAMILIAR WITH THEM.

A/N: Some swearing in this chapter, peppered in and out. I'm sorry, but when you're dealing with men with anger issues, some words are going to fall out of their mouths. Also, thank you to all readers and reviewers. With the new traffic function, I've noticed that people from all over the world have been looking this up! A zillion hugs to you if you are living in a country in which English is not the primary language and are reading this. If you haven't hugged your beta today, please do so, because they are amazing people to put up with you, especially when your chapters are 4200 words long like this one is.

_Let him know that you know best  
__'Cause after all you do know best  
__Try to slip past his defense  
__Without granting innocence  
__Lay down a list of what is wrong  
__The things you've told him all along  
__And pray to God he hears you  
__...and pray to God he hears you.  
__-How To Save A Life, _The Fray

Chapter 7: The Rise and Fall of the Weasley Women, Part Two: The Fall

Hermione stirred a spaghetti sauce in a small dark pot on their kitchen stove, her mind entirely somewhere else. The case she'd just been given was harrowing, at best, and she, of all people, still didn't quite understand the situation. So a sixteen-year-old wizard is studying Voldemort in the confines of his home, and he's been given a death sentence? For someone who had always had the answer immediately, this was making very little sense to her. Could she lessen the charges? What exactly did "studying" constitute, anyway? Well, when she studied, Hermione generally did a little bit of practice. And checked out every single book and article and anything she could get her hands on on the subject so that she understood it as completely as possible. But didn't studying usually include making a personal opinion on the subject? Well, depending on the subject. It wasn't like Hermione was chock-full of opinions on the Reductor Curse or repairing charms. But it seemed as if-

"Is something burning?" Ron had announced his entry into the kitchen; he had been in the living room reading the paper. But if something happened to his dinner...well, that would call his attention. At his comment, Hermione realized that she had, in fact, burned the spaghetti sauce on the bottom of the pot. Damn.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm just so scatterbrained that I...Ron, would you check on the pasta for me, please?" She'd forgotten to set the pasta to stir itself, like usual, that it was probably all stuck against the sides of the vat it was boiling in. It wasn't long before he joined her at the stove, and sure enough, the pasta was in no state to be eaten. Or at least most of it. "Bugger all," she muttered, and Ron didn't miss it. He leaned against the counter and studied her harried face. Hermione was close to being a total wreck. Very close.

"Leftovers, then?" he asked, trying to be helpful, but Hermione just shook her head. Something had to be troubling her, he'd deduced that much. "What is it, Hermione? You look like a mess." She glared at him and huffed, but he didn't seem too annoyed with her. Yet.

"Just a case," she mumbled, turning on her heel to check on the refridgerator and see if there was anything in it worth eating. Just a case. Ha.

Ron seemed to discard this fact, shrugging off whatever terrible paperwork she had on her plate and deciding to talk about his own day. Just what she needed. "Well, if that's all it is. Today was awful, we were all reassigned to do some guardwork. Round the clock check-ups, we've got. It's terrible. I can't believe we've been set to do this, honestly. Degrading work, we've all been set to watch a teenage-"

"Ron!" It had only now occurred to Hermione that Ron, as an Auror, would probably be taking his turn supervising the McKeel boy. He could tell her what exactly they meant by studying- was he trying to start up a new set of the Death Eaters? What was he doing? "Who exactly were you watching?"

Ron's brow furrowed. "Erm, some kid named McKeel a few miles out of London. Why?"

Hermione was almost jumping up and down with this fantastic coincidence. "But Ron, that's my case! I'm the public defender on the case!"

"Oh, good. I've heard he's up for death. You're the best one for that job, Hermione. You'll make sure he gets the sentence he deserves, sodding-"

"...Ron, do you think he should die?" She was chewing on one of her nails nervously. What did he mean, best for the job? Was she the best to administer death? What on earth did he mean?

"Of course, little bastard, he- he..." Ron's fists clenched unconsciously and the skin whitened over his knuckles. "He has these enormous snakes that he keeps in jars and..." He sighed, and shuddered.

"What?"

Ron took a deep breath to even his voice out. "He practices the- the Cruciatus" (he made himself say it; ever since Hermione's torture he'd had trouble) "the Cruciatus Curse on these bloody pythons...they were just writhing around..." For a moment he looked as if he was going to be terribly sick all over the floor. "How does he even know? I mean, when I was sixteen..." Ron trailed off, and Hermione believed it to be for his own benefit.

"So he should die for that?"

Ron paused, his eyes searching her face. "But it's worse, you don't understand. Never leaves his room, he's always brewing something horrible in the center...I don't know how he gets away with it but his parents don't seem completely right. Like they've been Obliviated one too many times, or something. A little like Neville's parents, actually, I wonder if he's ever practiced on them, the little-"

"Ron."

"What?"

Hermione sighed. She didn't know what else there was to say. It wasn't like she could argue in favor of death- hadn't she been fighting against that her whole life? "I'm not going to let him die, Ron. He's just a kid. You did some stupid things when you were sixteen, if I can remember rightly." Cavorting about with Lavender, drinking poisoned mead, eating Love Potion-filled cakes...okay, so none of them exactly harmed anyone, except the whole Lavender thing, and Hermione was sure he was punished enough for that already. Even she had purposefully inflicted pain on someone else at that age. Sixteen-year-olds would always be immature. That would never change.

"You're not going to turn this into something about me, are you? You'd better not be," he huffed. Ron pulled some cheese out of the fridge and some crackers out of the pantry before sitting at the table to eat his own makeshift dinner. "Look- fine, don't have him killed. But he's inspired by Voldemort and all them and Harry- we spent years trying to get rid of that, Hermione. You're not going to start nurturing uprisings, are you?"

"No! What, Ron? No! How on earth could you..." But she stopped, and sighed. There would be no use talking to Ron, or trying to talk sense into him. It was completely useless. "Fine. You know what? Fine. I'll be going to visit him and his parents tomorrow, at the house. I'll just apparate, I don't need to go with you. Is that your dinner?" She didn't wait for an answer, though, and left the room to prepare some case files. Things would be tense between her and Ron for a while.

--

It was 10:30 in the morning and Hermione had apparated (right on time) to a secluded spot near the house where apparating would not appear so strange. McKeel lived on a Muggle street, and apparating into the yard would seem strange. The people in jogging suits who ran up and down the street and looked suspiciously like Ministry employees were strange enough. Taking a deep breath, she approached the front door of the McKeel residence and rang the doorbell. A plump woman with scraggly dark hair and dark, tired bags under her eyes answered the door. Had the woman been in better health, she would have reminded Hermione strongly of Ron's mother. Her heart hurt for them. "Erm, hi, my name is Hermione Weasley and I'm here with- I'm here for- well, I'm with the Ministry of Magic, I'm sure you've heard of them, especially lately, and...well... Is this a bad time? I'd like to ask some questions."

The woman gave a strange half smile and opened the door. "No, actually, I just put on a pot of tea. Come in." She was oddly pleasant for a woman who'd recently put up with a lot. While Hermione followed her into the house, she turned her head over her shoulder to address her. "So I'm sure you're here about my son. Sit, sit!" Hermione awkwardly sat on a flowery couch, and the woman brought her a cup of tea.

"Thanks," Hermione muttered, not sure what else to say. This woman's cheeriness, given the circumstance, was a little off-putting. "Right, so, Mrs. McKeel-"

"Judy."

"Judy, right. So I'm sure you know your son is up for trial in a few months. The outlook is not so good, and-"

"Trial?"

"For crimes against the wizarding community, I was told you'd been contacted." This made Hermione incredibly nervous. What if she didn't know? What if this was the first time she was being told?

"Oh, right, that does ring a bell, yes. Something about a letter." The woman's face was strangely blank. For a mother, especially. Her son was being put on trial for death, and all it did was "ring a bell?"

Hermione paused for a long time, constructing her next sentence. "Has he- what is he like, your son? I don't know much about him, and it doesn't seem ethical to put a boy on a stand for something and nobody knows much about him, except Ministry records."

The woman smiled, but it was empty. By the looks of the living room, it seemed as if the only thing she'd been doing for months was cleaning and arranging and collecting knicknacks. Little angels were arranged on the top of an old piano, shoved in the corner. The coffee table had a great, diamond-shaped doily in the center with a vase of fresh flowers sitting in the pinpoint middle. Even with magic, the Weasley house never looked this organized. Or maybe it was magic that had made this woman a cleaning machine. Hermione hadn't yet decided. "My son, right. Well, he's always been a bit odd. Always a hand with magic, though. I was never gifted, though the rest of my family were incredibly talented. Famous wizarding family, actually. I'm not in contact with much of them anymore."

"If you don't mind me asking, Mrs.- Judy, what family is that?"

"The Blacks. Narcissa and Andromeda are my half-sisters, if you're familiar with the family- their mother had an affair with a Squib man much later, and here I am." She gave a large, dimpled smile, somehow unfazed by her family history. "I didn't make it onto the family tree, but that's not very surprising. Affairs have always been sort of taboo anywhere, haven't they? Oh, and the whole scandal with my father...I was brought up by him, raised Muggle."

Hermione might as well have fallen off of the couch. The Blacks?! The story went a lot deeper, and suddenly she was very interested in the affairs of the McKeel family. "Seriously? Well, then I would not be surprised by your son's aptitude for magic, then!"

"We just weren't expecting it- I hadn't been raised in magic, and my husband has no idea about it at all- I hardly did, to be honest. We wanted to raise him the way we knew how. When he got his Hogwarts letter, we made the decision not to send him. We were going to raise him as normally as possible, hoping the magical tendencies would die away. We still sent him to Muggle school. He was expelled from his secondary school, shame of a thing. He was so good with science and maths, too. We thought he would be a doctor, or a surgeon! He's always loved to take things apart to see how they worked. But apparently he figured out most of the magic himself at home, bright boy. Somehow he got his hands on a wand, but he does the strangest things without it- moving things back and forth, and setting things on fire- very bizarre, but it can come in handy, like a few days in the kitchen. Doog commands a presence. Always been a clever child."

Hermione had not been expecting such an outpouring of information. Halfway through Judy's speech, she'd taken out a pad of paper and an ink pen (not a quill, not at this house) and started scribbling away- supressed magical abilities, hidden, scandalous past, loves to take things apart, kicked out of school, parents who don't understand- if she wasn't mistaken, this was the perfect mix for a troubled person- let alone troubled wizard. Such a mix was dangerous in a kid his age, especially one without friends or a support system. Hermione now had a sudden urge to talk to him; maybe she'd get a better understanding of him. He couldn't be so evil, could he? Just clever. And unguided. "Would you mind terribly if I spoke to your son?" she asked, tapping the pen almost nervously against her chin.

"Not at all. His room is the first one on the left, just up the stairs. I would be careful, though. He is prone to keeping large animals." _And you let him do this?_ Hermione thought, but shrugged off her surprise and went upstairs to the room, taking her tea with her.

--

Hermione opened the door to the upstairs bedroom, and was welcomed by darkness (_Goodness, when was the last time he opened the shades?)_ and a strong smell that was a disgusting mix of boy and animal. She cringed, looking around- like Ron said, there were a few large aquarium tanks containing snakes too big for their habitats. One snake was sharing its tank with an enormous scaly iguana, its yellowed eyes spinning round in its head. It was surprising that the last thing that she noticed was the boy himself, his too-long black hair hanging into his eyes. His back faced her, but from what she could see he was long and lanky as Ron had been, but more concave and much thinner, and with Harry's untamed black hair, only longer, and greasier. If she could only stop seeing her own sixteen-year-old life in this one. "Dougal McKeel?" she asked, her voice quiet. She didn't want to surprise or startle him, worried of the consequence.

He coughed. Hermione wondered if he'd recently been ill. She'd do a disinfecting charm on herself later. "What's it to you then? Come here to babysit me? To stalk me, like those joggers outside? What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just here with the Ministry-"

Dougal cackled, and it was a horrifying sound. She hadn't heard a laugh like that since...ugh, she didn't want to remember. "Ministry, then, are you?" He turned around and gave her a very thorough once-over. If Ron had been there the vein in his temple would have stuck out in supressed anger. Hermione almost laughed at the thought. "You must be a smart girl. What are you doing here?" His tone was incredibly condescending for a boy of that age.

Hermione stood indignant, hands crossed over her chest. She would not be talked down to by a teenage delinquent. "I've come here to save your life, if you're interested. You must know you're on trial to be executed. I don't even know what you've done."

He laughed that laugh again. "I don't care. I was going to die soon anyway. Some way or another, right?" Surprised by his incredible morbidity, Hermione took a seat, ready to ask more questions. "What I've done? Brewed a couple of things that I'm pretty sure are illegal. Practiced some curses, I guess. Underage magic, or whatever the hell it is. If I'd been at real wizard school, where I'm supposed to be, I'd be learning this stuff anyway. Let them take me away. I don't care."

"I'm pretty sure you said that already," Hermione said faintly, not able to manage anything else in her surprise. "What kind of potions, can I ask?"

Dougal shrugged. "Some stuff with my blood in it, and gold. A few with human skin. I've tried them a couple of times- strengthening potions. I have no use for Wolfsbane or anything complicated and useless like that. Are there really werewolves?"

"Yes, there are..."

"I'd read that. Doubted it though, for a while. And apparently there was a wizard who was able to master all of this- complicated potions to bring him back to life, even after years of death and weakness. Splitting the soul. Fascinating."

"Horrible."

He paused and gave Hermione a funny look. "What?"

"Horrible. You know who that is, right? What he did?" She'd never heard Voldemort talked about so freely before, in such an adoring context.

"Killed some people, I guess. But it's not that big of a deal. Everyone dies eventually, like I said. If you die without accomplishment, that's your own fault. You know? I'm trying to accomplish something. I was kicked out of Muggle school since I accidentally set something on fire. I can't go to Hogwarts because my parents won't let me. I have a shit life. And if I'm going to die it might as well be because I was trying. Look, I've accomplished magic that so many people couldn't- even Harry Potter never successfully administered the Cruciatus, and look at me- I've tried it a couple times, with fair success. And he was one of the best-"

"Is." Hermione was too shocked to cry. It was as if this boy, this young boy, had no emotions at all except hate, and except apathy, but that wasn't really an emotion. "Harry Potter is one of the best wizards in history. Don't forget it." For a moment she wished that he had been able to take History Of Magic and at that she nearly started crying- he was talking about death so frankly and she was wishing that he'd gotten to listen to a couple of long lectures about something that probably would never really listen to anyway.

"What's your name?"

Hermione choked back the rising knot of tears. "Hermione Granger-Weasley. I work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry. I'm a public defender."

"I've read about your work," he commented, changing the subject. Hermione was surprised yet again by his behavior. Was he doing this for her benefit? "You're one hell of an overachiever. Overturning Wizengamot rulings about creatures, and the freedom of House Elves? And I read that you helped with Harry Potter on his search for the Horcruxes- what was the other one's name, um..."

"Ron." Her voice was a little teary. What was the point of this?

"Right, I saw pictures of your wedding in an old wizarding tabloid..._Charmed Life_, maybe?" Hermione laughed. He had noticed. Sure, this kid had gotten up to no good, frequently and often, but he wasn't no good. At least, from what she could tell.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"From what I know, you just did. Yeah, sure. Ask."

Hermione wondered how he would take this one. "What have you done to your parents?" He obviously resented them, kind as his mother may have seemed, and he'd obviously tampered with her on numerous occasions. He scowled and turned away again.

"I'll tell you but know that whatever they did was deserved. _They _keep me like this, you know. They're the reason why I'm so weird. Mum's the reason I'm magic. I probably would have been a scientist if I didn't have all this..."gift." My dad likes to tell me that I've sinned at that I should go to confessional, and Mum likes to say that I've been burdened with this...whatever...as a gift from God. What do they know? They don't know damn near ANYTHING!" He pounded the bed with his fist and Hermione jumped.

"What have you done to your parents?"

"Practice."

Her voice was shaking. "Define practice, please."

"It's not your business."

"If I'm going to keep you alive it most certainly is my business."

He paused and the air grew painful to sit in. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I've Confunded my Mum a couple of times. A few memory wipes- Obliviate- nothing too complete, though. I was using the killing spell on a mouse for my snake, they prefer to eat animals that are already dead- Avada Kedavra, you know it, I'm sure-" (Hermione nodded) "-and she started screaming and crying so I wiped her memory. Also, she kept getting on me to clean the sitting room and so I set her to clean it herself. But I think that one got a little out of hand. She's slightly obsessive about it."

"I noticed. And your father?"

This time his voice was very, very different. Almost innocent sounding as if to cloak something evil. "The same."

"Really?"

"Yes, YES! What else do you want?" At this point he was yelling at her and she was certain there was something else.

Hermione bit her lip, worried that he'd react rashly. But she was the one in the room most skilled with magic. "The truth, please."

"...I've had him try some potions."

"Is that all?"

"No."

"Will you tell me the rest?"

"No. It's not your business. Get out of my room. And don't come back. I'll know what to do if you do."

Hermione stood and looked him over, and surveyed the room for a long time. "Okay." At this point he'd turned away completely to busy himself with something else, and Hermione was almost glad of it. Besides, she'd gotten the information she'd needed.

--

Upon leaving the house and returning the teacup to Judy, Hermione was run straight into by an over-eager jogger nearly double her size. "Merlin! Watch where you're going, would you? Bloody h-" She was answered with a short chuckle. Looking up, Hermione realized that the jogger was Ron, dressed in bright Muggle work-out gear. "What on earth are you wearing?" He must have been doing some monitoring work today.

"What, this old thing?" He laughed and squeezed her around her shoulder. "Nah, I'm just off work now. What've you been doing there all day? Hopefully they didn't hang you from the ceiling or make you eat-"

"Ron."

"What?"

"I'm going to petition to have the sentence changed."

"What!?" They'd stopped in the middle of the street near Hermione's apparating point. She couldn't even laugh at his silly headband or trainers. In fact, if he took the sweatband off, he'd look almost attractive. Not that he didn't anyway.

"I've decided to change the sentence. He's not that bad, he's just-"

"Misunderstood?"

"Right, sort of. I mean, he's not good, but he doesn't deserve to die!"

Ron scowled. That wasn't the epiphany or the discovery he was looking for. "I'll meet you at home, then." He disapparated quickly, leaving Hermione by herself in the middle of the street to think about what exactly she'd found out: enough to save a life.


	8. Malice and Misconduct

Disclaimer: This is JK Rowling's. However, the personalities of the characters and the few characters you don't recognize clears throat (MollyMcGregorArianeMarcosGregoryClemensMichaelParsonsKyleJordanTheHeadmistressGloriaLlewellynMaxwellThatcherKyleBrownandRexPolanski) are all characters of my own imagination, borrowing from the lovely Harry Potter universe.

Author's Note: Many many undying thank-yous to the reviewers, who always put a big silly smile on my face for an entire day, Nick, who has helped me out with what goes on in the teenage male mind for Scorpius and Michael's sakes, and Alexandra, who loves to tell me how fabulous I am and is awfully fabulous herself. Thanks for reading this, you guys. It makes all the days I spend on the computer until 3:30 AM totally worth it.

_Scar tissue that I wish you saw  
__Sarcastic Mr. Know-It-All  
__Close your eyes and I'll kiss you_ _cause  
__with the birds I'll share this lonely view  
__...Soft spoken with the broken jaw  
__Step outside but not to brawl  
__Autumn's sweet we'll call it fall  
__I'll make it to the moon if I have to crawl  
__and with the birds I'll share this lonely view.  
__-Scar Tissue, _Red Hot Chili Peppers

Chapter 8: Malice and Misconduct

It had been a month and a half since their first meeting in the closet (the forced one, not the nice one) in late October. Rose had counted the days- they'd been "involved," as she liked to call it, for thirty-seven days now. It was a miracle. Thirty-seven glorious days. No rowing, no punching Scorpius in the face, no spitting, no hairpulling, and only required competition. The number of things Rose had to worry about dwindled exponentially, even though she was still keeping up the I-Hate-Scorpius-With-Every-Breath-I-Take front with their friends. What she hated to admit was that it was getting harder by the day, and there had been thirty-seven days. Thirty-seven! What a lovely number. And with all of the magical properties of the number seven...today was going to be a very good day.

Since their escapade to the Astronomy Tower, Rose had been increasingly lenient about their meeting places. Secret corridors, behind statues, the Prefect's bathroom, the Quidditch pitch. Anywhere where nobody would find them. And today, it was beautiful outside. There was no way she was going to be in a closet when she was young and had all the time on her hands and was completely in l- well, not love, but very deep like. Perhaps. A broom closet (which had been stylishly rearranged since their first encounter there) was no place to be on a day like this. Today, she wanted to fly. If she had anything to say about it, Scorpius would want to fly too. To somewhere else secluded and preferably comfortable. She'd told him to meet her at the Quidditch pitch. Scorpius was going to give her a ride on her broom. He just didn't know yet.

Rose flew the newest make by the company that produced the Firebolt: the FreeSpirit. It was classy and light-weight and sent straight to her father as soon as it came out. Apparently being in the war had its perks. Or at least, being Harry Potter's best friend. He also got season tickets to the Cannons. Not that they were doing any better, but still. They held sentimental value. There was absolutely no way that Scorpius would say no to being given the chance to fly it around. And they wouldn't have to stay in the air- they could land somewhere, maybe the forest where nobody went. Rose slipped effortlessly into a daydream in which she was clinging tightly to his robes, wind whipping her hair as they sped over the grounds. It was entirely pleasant. She smiled to herself.

Before she knew it, Rose had arrived at the tent that led out onto the pitch, and Scorpius was already there. He smiled at her and her stomach gave a little lurch and she was sure her cheeks were the color of her name.

"Hey," he murmured, and Rose grinned. There was something about the smile he couldn't resist, and he took a step forward to cup her face in both hands and kiss her. Rose was glad he was so close so she'd have something to hold on to- otherwise she was sure she'd fall over. "What'd you want me to meet you out here for?"

At first, Rose wasn't sure she remembered. "Oh, erm- want to go for a ride?" She extended her broom and hoped he'd take it. What a wonderful trip that would be, even if they just did a loop around the grounds. And hopefully they'd be going fast enough so noone would see them. Luckily, Scorpius took it into his hands almost immediately and Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

"You want me to ride this? Are you sure you trust me enough not to fly it into a tree, or something? That would be perfect sabotage for an opposing team captain."

"I trust you because I know you wouldn't want to fly it into a tree with me on it."

"Who said anything about taking you with me?"

Rose glared at him for a while, and at some point she gave up the angry act and giggled. "You wouldn't leave me on the ground, I have leverage." To prove a point, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his nose.

"That's true, you do...wow, a FreeSpirit. Damn, this is fantastic. Should ask my father for one of these for Christmas." Scorpius turned the broom over and over in his hands, examining the structure and build of it all. "You sure you're up to this, then?"

"Of course." Why would she be anything but? With that, he mounted the broom and reached out to help her on. Rose swung her leg over the side easily, feeling the familiar loss of gravity and pull in her stomach that she always did getting on a broom times three because Scorpius was "driving" and she put her arms around him and her legs inched close to his to make her more secure. Already letting go a little, she leaned forward and rested her cheek on his shoulder. Scorpius was glad she couldn't see the completely ecstatic look on his face. That was not for her to see.

He manuevered out of the tent and into the pitch, making sure that nobody was out there first. When there wasn't anyone, he flew straight up, the broom knowing what he wanted to do before he did. It was such a smooth ride that he could probably let it drive itself...which was starting to sound like a good idea. The wind was stinging his cheeks a little and besides- he couldn't see Rose sitting like this. After a moment the broom leveled and hovered above a tree, as if it were reading his mind. He really did need one of these for Christmas. Maybe then he'd start catching the Snitch before the Potter girl. That was always embarrassing. Scorpius turned in his spot to give his attention to Rose, and once he did, it would be extremely difficult to put his attention anywhere else. She looked beautiful with her wind-bitten cheeks and long reddish waves of hair whipping around her face. Rose seemed to be having a similar reaction to his. Looking up at him, she smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up the slightest bit. Scorpius kissed her and Rose followed suit. He held her to him and she responded eagerly, trailing one hand up to his face. It felt wonderful. However, that didn't keep her from pulling a hand behind her back briefly to cross her fingers. Falling off would be terrible.

**--**

Ariane, third-year and Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, was sitting out on a bench with Kyle Jordan, announcer for the Quidditch games. He'd asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him earlier that day, and to be honest she wasn't too keen on the idea. She had her sights set on someone else, and, nice as Kyle was to ask her, he was always a little annoying. His big mouth always got in the way of anything that could have made this work out. Now, it was time for her to let him down easy, one step at a time. Too bad she couldn't look him in the eye.

"So, erm, Kyle. It's great of you to ask me, really. And I know you've asked a bunch of times-" Kyle really needed to work on where his eyes went when she talked to him. "Look. Kyle. I don't think I..." Her eyes wandered away, trying to get as far away from Kyle as possible. She watched the amber and crimson leaves fall off of tall trees and it reminded her of Gryffindor colors. She smiled, mostly to herself. She eyed the lake, and it sparkled and glittered in the sunshine. The weather was beautiful, for once. Nobody could have hoped for a better day. Scanning the treeline, she spotted someone else enjoying the weather...among other things. Couldn't people just take it somewhere else? Just once? At least they were partly hidden behind some trees.

_Who would do that though, honestly? _Ariane thought, and she squinted to get a closer look. Though she did notice the shock of red against dark robes and blue sky, the thing that she recognized was the broom. Nobody else had a broom like that. Rose Weasley was up on that broom. As far as she knew, Rose had been unoccupied, as far as relationships went. Though it could explain her behavior at that match a few weeks ago...but who else was there?

Upon the realization of who was up on the broom with Rose, Ariane gasped and threw a hand over her mouth. No way. No possible way. Unthinkingly, she jabbed Kyle in the arm and pointed up. "Look! Look at that, do you see? Do you see who that is?"

Kyle would have recognized Rose Weasley and her broom anywhere. "Sure."

"No, no, do you see who's with her? Do you see what they're _doing_?"

Kyle had a very similar reaction to that of Ariane. "Oh, Ariane! That's rich! I can't believe it!"

"Neither can I." Ariane, however, was starting to put the pieces together. Breaking up with Will. That game a few weeks ago, versus Slytherin. Her strange giddiness around the dorm. Her being missing whenever anyone needed her. Her added fury when training for a game against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and her lack of interest for a game against Slytherin. It made perfect sense. And it was even kind of cute- they did make a good pair, now that she thought about it. But being that Rose was going about meeting with him like this, she probably wanted it to be a secret. If she were Rose, so would she. And guess who knew about them now? The biggest loudmouth in the school. Great. Rose was her friend, too, and she'd let Kyle find out. Damn, damn, damn. "Look, Kyle, don't. Don't tell anyone. And we're off for this weekend."

If Kyle needed any more incentive to tell people what he'd just seen, her final comment was it. "We'll see. For right now, I've got some other things to attend to. Bye." He grabbed his things and ran over to someone else, jabbering excitedly and pointing in the direction of Scorpius and Rose. Soon, everyone in the courtyard had a look of surprise and excitement on their face, thrilled with the new gossip. This was the best story anyone had had in a while.

Ariane, knowing she'd screwed up, gave an exasperated sigh and dropped her head on her knees. If this got back to Rose (as she was sure it would), their next practice would be hell.

--

Rose walked into the Great Hall for dinner, still reveling in the perfection of the afternoon. She could still feel Scorpius's lips in all the places they'd been- all over her face, her ears, her shoulder- she had to force her mind off of the subject or she would make a fool of herself some way or another. Instead, Rose tried to think about dinner and what she'd be eating in a few short minutes, but her attempts were largely unsuccessful. She even knew her ears were pinkish when she felt the heat rise in her face. And when she walked straight into Scorpius's friend, Michael, she knew her entire body was probably the color of a beaten tomato. "Michael!" she squealed, nearly dropping her bag on the floor. "Sorry, I just- I wasn't really- paying attention..." She scratched the back of her head awkwardly, not knowing if he was going to say something.

To her surprise, he laughed. "Not a problem. I don't blame you, what with the fact that you spend most of your time snogging the brains out of my friend. If I were you I'd be pretty oblivious too."

Rose's brow furrowed. "Excuse me? Sorry, what?"

"Don't be embarrassed. That's hot. Be proud of yourself."

She shook her head. "No, not what I meant. Could you start from 0 and work your way up, please?"

"Oh, don't do that. I know you know what I'm talking about."

She had an inkling.

"Heard about what you and Scor did today out near the Forbidden Forest...not surprised you picked that part of the grounds, it's almost poetic. Let him ride your broomstick. I'm jealous, Rose, I'd like a turn on that broomstick of yours myself."

She glared and tried to ignore the latter comment. "We didn't do- not _that_, but-"

"So you admit it."

Rose had worked herself into a corner. He was right- she had admitted it. But how the hell did he find out? There was no one at the Forbidden Forest today except herself and Scorpius-

Scorpius.

He'd told him.

He'd bragged about it to his friend, who was sure to spread it around, so everyone would know. And he was crude about it too, judging by the look on Michael's face. It made her sick. She needed to sit down. This wasn't fair, it was finally working out- couldn't she have said something first before he turned her into a story? A rumor? She would be less hurt if he'd slapped her. At least she could punch him back. That would only leave a bruise. This was worse than a bruise. Far worse.

She swallowed and it went down uncomfortably. "Excuse me." Rose pivoted on her heel and walked out of the Great Hall- but her grand exit was interrupted by Scorpius. He tried to whisper to her as she stormed out. As far as he knew, they still had to keep up the unfriendly-terms scenario.

"Rose, you look terrible. What happened?" He sounded genuinely concerned and Rose wanted to punch him in the stomach until he'd lost as much air as she had.

"You really have to ask?" she whispered, tone frosty, but laden with oncoming tears. He'd made her cry. She didn't even know she felt strongly enough about him to cry.

He'd made her cry, and now, he would pay.

--

"What's wrong with _her_?" Scorpius asked Michael once they were sitting back at the table, trying to keep his tone cool and uninvolved. Since he'd seen her cry, he wasn't really in the mood to eat and Michael was eating off his plate, as usual.

"You tell me, mate. You're the one whose been _riding her broom_, if you get what I mean. How was that, by the way? From the look at her, you'd think it'd be good, but-"

Scorpius gaped. He'd heard Michael talk about girls like this forever, but he'd never heard him talk about Rose like that. And...it made him angry. But most of all, it made him confused. "...How did you know?"

"Oh, everyone knows. Some kid saw you snogging out on a broom."

Scorpius's anger was building. No wonder Rose was crying. Little bastard who spread this around was going to pay for making her cry. And if Michael had reached her first- Merlin, he didn't have a censor on him anywhere, and he would have been just as inappropriate with her as he was with his friends. Damn. "Right. Did you talk to her about this?"

"Yeah," Michael said, shrugging it off, "by the way, I meant to ask you- have you two shagged yet? Because me and Stevens have a bet going and-" But Michael was not able to finish his sentence because Scorpius's body moved independent of his mind and his was standing up away from the table bench, forgetting the water glass in his hand.

"What the hell, Michael?"

Michael stood to level with him. "What are you talking about?" As much as he was trying to hide it, he was feeling incredibly intimidated. Not only was Scorpius skilled with a hex, but his knuckles were danger-white around the glass. Almost as an omen, the glass seemed afraid of Scorpius's knuckles too, and it shattered all over the floor under his grip. "Whoa, Scorpius. Relax. It's not like I was-"

Scorpius knew what he was going to say next by the look on his face. "It doesn't matter." His tone was dead-even and slightly louder than his usual calm. A few heads turned to see what was going on.

Michael had to dig himself out of this hole, or he was going to get hurt. "Look, I'm sorry, okay, it's just-"

"It's just nothing. You're not sorry, you never are. You talk about girls like this all the time and I didn't care- hell, I still don't. Just don't talk about Rose to me." More heads turned. "She's not your business."

This time, Michael couldn't help but snicker. "Well, we _all_ know that she's your business. And judging by-" But he' didn't get to finish (again) because Scorpius had landed his fist squarely on Michael's jaw. Tasting blood, he glared up at Scorpius with a mix of betrayal and awe. And so did over half of the students in the Great Hall.

"Talk to me again when you've realized what a wanker you are. Until then, don't even think about it unless you would like a permanent mutation." And similar to the way Rose had exited, Scorpius turned on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall, determined to go find Rose before it was too late.

--

After lots of hard thinking (and some crying) Rose had devised her perfect plan. It was going to be a tear for a tear in the end. He was going to cry, and then some. And it was fail-proof- there was no way she could be busted for this, either. Rose smiled slyly to herself. She hadn't smiled in days. She hadn't talked to Scorpius in days either. Not that she minded.

Standing up on the bench in the Gryffindor changing room, Rose found the perfect opportunity to unveil her plan. But they wouldn't know it was a plan. Or maybe they would.

"Team!" Rose announced, her tone entirely business. "Time for the game plan. Gather round." Her team scurried to surround the bench, and many of them looked up at her warily. She hadn't been this hardcore against Slytherin in months. "We're going to win today. No excuses. Okay, so...can I have my Chasers over here, please? Hugo, Ariane, Molly. Good. You're all ready. I want a charge pattern. Don't try anything tricky." She ribbed her brother. As she gave instructions, she traced the plan in the air with her wand. "No showing off. Save a Sloth Roll for a dangerous situation. Constant vigilance!" she quoted, flourishing her wand involuntarily and leaving a shimmering trail of gold behind. "Okay, erm...Lily! Right, come here. Today, I want you to break your neck getting the Snitch." Timothy Wood, Beater and professional Quidditch progeny, took this opportunity to whisper, "Sounds like my Dad." "Do anything. Try all those feints you practiced. Be as tricky as you want. Today's goal is to catch the Snitch, all of you. Not just Lily. Our Chasers are set- they're much better than the Slytherin side. But Malfoy-" (she spat the word) "knows what he's doing. It is everyone's job to make sure he doesn't get it. Beaters- Wood, Clemens- Scor- I mean Malfoy- should be your only target. Your aim is to knock him off his broom."

Ariane looked up at Rose strangely. This didn't sound like strategy, this sounded like revenge. And for what, Ariane had no idea. Honestly, if somebody had punched out his best friend in her name, she would be more than thrilled. "But Rose-"

"No. Unless you have a _better_ game plan, I suggest you stick to mine." Rose grimaced and Ariane cringed, too afraid to say that she did in fact have a better plan. It seemed as if everyone was borderline scared of Rose.

Which was just how she wanted it.

--

Kyle Jordan was hunched over the microphone, lips barely moving as he kept up with the scores. This had been the most intense Quidditch game he'd seen since his parents had taken him to a Puddlemere championship final, and that was professional Quidditch. This was Saturday morning Hogwarts Quidditch. "120-100 Gryffindor...130-100, excellent back-pass by McGregor, intercepted by Llewellyn, back to Brown, Marcos with the interception- OH, that was bloody UNPROFESSIONAL! Polanski is being given a warning, one more warning for the Slytherin Beaters and they'll have to call in their reserve players...Thatcher scores, 130-110, Gryffindor retains the lead...beautiful Feint by Lily Potter, I think Malfoy there nearly smashed into the ground. He's been given a run for his money this match, and I'm not surprised, what with-"

"Mr. Jordan, you do not report gossip for the WWN, though it might be a wise career choice. Stick to the game, please."

"Right. Thanks, Professor. Weasley with the save, passes to Weasley...Weasley to Marcos, Marcos to McGregor, Molly is keeping up with these back-passes. Hey, Molly, since Ariane's called it off for the Hogsmeade visit, would you-"

The Headmistress glared in Kyle's direction.

"Nevermind that, talk to me later...Weasley to Marcos, beautiful dodge, Ariane, that was spot-on...oh! Oh, it looks as if Malfoy has actually seen the Snitch this time! Uh-oh, the Gryffindor captain is looking worried...and the Snitch is slipping out of his fingers! How high do you think he is, nearly a hundred feet up? Don't look at me like that, I've never done well with Arithmancy...I'm not sure, but he certainly is high up there...and would you look at that? Gregory Clemens with the Bludger...that was a fantastic swing, so accurate...wonder if Malfoy can hear me, he doesn't seem to be avoiding this..."

Scorpius's fingers reached desperately for the Snitch, his bare fingers freezing in the cold air of whatever altitude he'd climbed to. At least Quidditch made sense. Despite the surprising amount of close calls he'd had this game (he'd nearly been hit in the head with a bludger six times, almost feinted into the ground twice, and was crashed into by Ariane Marcos on at least four occasions), he could still come out the best. It was about athletic ability, about how much he'd practiced. When he came within inches of the Snitch, Scorpius thought he heard an oddly familiar sound, and for some reason took his eyes off the winged golden prize to see what it was.

A Bludger, moving far faster than one he'd seen all game.

His shock kept him from thinking, and before he knew it all of the air was forced out of his stomach and he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. Then, nothing but air. He was falling, falling...and showing no signs of slowing down. Then he felt nothing at all.

And as Scorpius's body crunched against the ground, Rose felt her heart do the same.


	9. Broken

Disclaimer: Duh.  
Author's Note: THANXXXXXXXX to betas. i love you like sunshine and rainbows and kittens and chocolate and Psych with James Roday and Dule Hill. In other news, sorry this took a while. I hope you like it, even though it's shorter.

_Now you're asking me to listen  
Then tell me about everything  
No lies, we're losing time  
This is a battle  
And its your final last call  
This is a trial  
You made a mistake  
We know  
(Can't you see you've hurt me so?)  
Things could be better,  
you could be happy,  
try.  
-Battle, _Colbie Caillat

Chapter 9: Broken

Rose had never seen him look so vulnerable. They'd been together, or at least in that sense, for a month or two, and she'd known him for seven years before that. And she'd never seen him looking so...weak. She hated it. His normally pale skin and high cheekbones were only emphasized by his weakness. And it was her fault, too! And what if he hadn't told anyone in the first place? And besides, how big of an issue was it if people knew? If people knew that she was entirely smitten with him, even at his weakest? It wouldn't really be an issue at all, would it? Even with all of her medical training (taking Healing had really come in handy now and again), there was no way she could help him. Madame Pomfrey was already doing everything she could. All Rose could do was sit by his bedside for hours. So she had.

Scorpius lifted his head from the bed, and it was clearly an effort. His face was covered in bruises of varying severity and some scratches for which he was obviously being medicated. His leg was being lifted by a few extra pillows. A bottle of Skele-Gro was on the table to his right, as well as a great number of get-well cards and various sweets. People tended to be nicer to those they feared when they were ill. "Rosie," he croaked, and it about broke her heart.

She swallowed before talking again. "You look terrible, Scor." Moving out of her seat, Rose took a closer spot next to him on his hospital bed.

Scorpius attempted a laugh. "Thanks. You still look gorgeous as ever." But she looked sad, and he worked hard to fight the frown off of his own face.

"That's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"How you can just sit there and joke about this?!" Rose cried, obviously distressed. "Look at you! Your face- Merlin, Scorpius, your face..." It was all she could do to keep from weeping.

"Rosie. Calm down. It's just my face, look..." He took her chin in his good hand and turned her to face him. "It's me, see? It's just me. It'll be all better, I think, in a day or two, and I should be out of here in a week. Look on the bright side, I get a week without homework, you get to come visit me, I get food brought to me...what's bad about this?" Something about this was making her feel terrible, and he couldn't figure out what. "I just fell off my broom. Bad maneuver. You know, you're quite a distraction." He tried to wink but the bruise in his eye got in the way. A tear rolled down Rose's cheek.

"You're joking about it again. And you shouldn't be joking about your classes, this is NEWT year. You can't afford to miss a week's worth of work. I'll bring you your lessons. And I can try to catch you up with Muggle Studies, although I'm not sure what I could do with your Ancient Runes, but I could always owl my mother..."

"Rose. Rose, Rose." Scorpius shook her shoulder, again with his good hand. "I don't care about classes. I care about you. I had a fall. That wasn't something you could help. And you go from yelling at me to crying over a few scratches? Tell me what's going on, Rose."

"You got hit," Rose explained, trying not to cry. "I told my beaters to target you. I told them to play dirty."

"So? I'm the seeker. That's how you're supposed to play, Rose. It's a sport."

"But it was because...I thought you told someone that we- that you and I..."

Scorpius looked confused first, and then hurt. "Rose, is it...is it really that important to you that we- that people don't know that I..."

"It used to be." Rose pushed some of his hair out of his face, feeling another wave of guilt when she saw the hurt in his eyes.

"I don't know if I can talk about this right now with you, Rose."

"Right."

Scorpius scoffed and turned his face away, leaving Rose's hand to drop onto his pillow. "I thought this was important to you," he muttered, traces of venom evident in his voice. Rose didn't blame him.

She tried to find her voice. It had never been so difficult. Usually talking was easy. A shaking breath emerged, cloaking her quiet words. "It is."

"Yeah, right." He laughed, but it was bitter and hard and not like him at all. It was almost frightening. Rose didn't like this side of him at all. "You had me running circles for you. Not telling my friends, finding closets, lying, pretending that I was being responsible when really- God, Rose. I guess I'm stupid that I didn't see this earlier."

"Stop! Just stop it, right now!" This time she just let herself cry and yanked her hand from his face as if it were on fire. "I was afraid of it getting out, I was afraid of what people might say! Scor, I-I- you have to trust me, I care about you, I really do..."

"Yeah, well." He laughed like that again, and Rose shuddered. There was something about Rose that drove him crazy, and he wanted to share it with the world. She didn't want to tell anyone. She'd always seemed brave, but it turns out she was just weak. Terrified. Not at all what he'd thought. "Come and tell me when you've figured yourself out, Weasley."

"But that's the bloody point, Scorpius, I have figured it all out!" She grabbed his hand (the good one again) and held on to it as tightly as she could manage. He dragged his eyes back to her.

"What?" Did it really take a near-death experience for her to decide that being together was what she wanted? If so, then he didn't want it anymore.

"I want you, okay? Is that so bloody difficult to understand?! I have! I have for a very, very long time. Longer than you could possibly understand! But it was wrong, oh, it was just _wrong_, wasn't it. You hated me, I_ hated _you...and I worried what my father would say, what my friends would say! What they will say when I tell them that we-"

"You're going to tell them?" He'd lost the anger a little bit, but he was still louder than usual. So was she. They were so loud, in fact, that they attracted company. It was Madam Pomfrey, who not only was the hospital wing nurse of many, many years, but the teacher of the new Healing class. Healing was Rose's best subject and what she planned to do after she passed all of her NEWTs. Madam Pomfrey was very familiar with Rose...but not with her fits of tears and yelling matches.

"Miss Weasley! I know you felt it necessary to come and check on Mr. Malfoy here, being that you are the Gryffindor team captain, but he is recovering! You know better than to start a fight, Rose, especially with someone who is ill! Five more minutes, and then I want you out. He needs his rest." She eyed the pair of them suspiciously- they'd never gotten on this well before. "I'll be back if you aren't out soon." With that, she turned around and shut the bed curtain.

"So, you're going to tell them?" Scorpius repeated, this time in a softer voice.

Rose breathed a sigh of defeat. "Everyone already knows, don't they? Might as well tell them the truth. Your mate Michael's been going round spreading bloody lies about us, mainly me, so someone's got to clean up this mess." Something occurred to her. "Scorpius, did you- did you tell him?"

"Tell him what?"

"Did you tell Michael...did you tell him about us?"

Scorpius frowned. "No, I told you. I promised. I never said anything to him. I punched him in the face after I heard what he said to you, actually, I'm surprised he's not in the hospital wing too. I guess his girlfriend set his jaw for him." This only caused Rose a fresh wave of sobs.

"Damn, damn, damn!" After she breathed for a while, settling herself, she spoke again. "Am I a terrible person?"

"Hm?" At this point, Scorpius was a bit distracted. He had a lot on his mind. Once it occurred to him what she'd said, he answered, "Not completely. Rose, I've suffered worse from you. You've pushed me down the stairs in the Great Hall. You've punched me in the face. When it was long enough, you pulled my hair. You kissed me when you were still dating Thomas. This is nothing. Or, you know, just one little thing in a whole list of somethings."

"Not helping."

"Sorry." Scorpius shrugged and winced- not the smartest movement for the bruised muscles in his shoulder. "Ow."

"You shouldn't move like that, here..." Rose adjusted his pillows and put a stony expression on her face. She had hurt herself mentally just as bad as she had hurt him physically, and she wouldn't let him know it. He was in enough pain already. That was, assuming that her own pain would cause him pain. Rose wasn't sure if it would anymore. He didn't seem to notice her adjust the pillows, and Rose was sure that he'd put her away in some cabinet in his mind, not to think on her again. Her heart ached for a moment, but she was surprised when she felt his hand on her face. "...Scor?"

Scorpius smiled weakly. "Hm."

"Nothing, I'm just- are we going to be all right?" If Rose wasn't so stunned, she would have crossed her fingers.

"I'm not sure." His smile got a little bit wider, despite the tightness in his jaw. Rose was more than a little bit confused. "It's up to you."

Rose wanted it to be all right. It only helped that his smile was completely infectious. And maybe a little bit dangerous. "Then I think it's going to be fine. Eventually"

Scorpius laughed and, beautiful as it started off, he wheezed a little bit at the end. Rose placed a gentle hand on his chest. Scorpius took it in his own good hand.

"By the way, we won. You know, the game." Rose said, changing the subject. "Lily caught the Snitch after you went down. You would have been proud, even. You know, if you were concious."

He grinned. Everything was going to be okay.


	10. Remedies

Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda...not mine...

A/N: This'll be the last purely Rose/Scorpius chapter for a long while, if not the last one. The stories will start to mesh! Things will get more interesting! I swear! And in the next chapter, I'll be clarifying a little bit as far as the whole trial thing goes. If the next chapter doesn't come up for a while, my school year is starting next week, so I'll need to be cut a little slack. Thanks Nikki and Nick (yes, I know, my betas have the same name...practically) for checking this over for me, you guys are awesome. also, major love to the readers! I know (at least you loyal readers, who are awesome also) you've been waiting on this chapter for a while, but you're great. Thanks so much. :)

_Yesterday  
all my troubles seemed so far away  
now it looks as if they're here to stay  
oh, I believe in yesterday...  
-Yesterday_, The Beatles

_She said you hurt her so  
She almost lost her mind  
But now she says she knows  
You're not the hurtin kind  
She says she loves you  
-She Loves You, _The Beatles

Things between Rose and Scorpius had been more than awkward for the last couple of days. Scorpius's inner battle was obvious on his face- he loved her, that was true, but was her love worth the struggle and pain? Probably not. And Rose, through the past week, had been coming to terms with her own feelings. But Rose was an extremely private person, and Scorpius always wondered what was on her mind. The expression on her face wasn't easily read.

Rose came to visit him every day in the hospital wing during her healing class (and then again at the end of the day), toting along his work for the day that she'd collected from their professors. It wasn't difficult; she didn't have to go out of her way. He only had one class that she didn't, and that was Muggle Studies. And Rose had no problem with Muggle Studies. Those lessons she could teach on her own- she didn't need class notes or a textbook. Besides, it was hard to believe that "Understanding Muggles: The Curious Witch or Wizard's Guide" would be all too helpful. The air was always tense when she came to bring him his schoolwork, but Rose felt she owed it to Scorpius to keep him caught up with his lessons. Scorpius heartily disagreed. He thought he would be able to catch up without Rose's aid, and if it weren't for the fact that he enjoyed her company, he probably would have refused the help entirely.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Rose arrived at the hospital wing that Friday, grateful that she didn't have to work on her own homework yet. She slung her shoulder bag onto the floor next to his bed and sat on the edge of it, having to push herself up a little bit- the bed was high up. "Hey," she greeted, gently as she could manage. It was all she could ask for, to have one relaxed day. "How're you feeling?" His bruises seemed to be clearing away, she noticed.

Scorpius chuckled quietly and managed a smile. "I've been better. But Madam Pomfrey says I should be out by Monday. Apparently it takes longer for Skele-Gro to grow back ribs." His smile quickly changed to a grimace as he remembered the awful potion he'd had to take in obnoxious amounts twice a day. "What did you bring me today?"

Rose shifted to face him, trying not to concentrate on either his scrapes or his eyes for too long. Staring at either one would bring her guilt to the forefront. "Ummm," Rose stalled, as she flipped through a stack of papers, "Muggle Studies. It's what I understand best. And there aren't any spells to teach. Do you mind?" She was afraid that if she had chosen something else, like charms, she would add insult to injury and accidentally remove a vital body part or make his voice come out like that of a frog's, or worse, Madam Pomfrey's. He at least would get a kick out of sounding like a frog for a bit.

"Mind? Why would I? I have to go to that class anyway. What's on the agenda, professor?" He smiled and tried to move a little to sit up, but it ended in an uncomfortable shift and a quite obvious wince on Scorpius's part. "Ow," he whispered, trying not to show the pain on his face but failing miserably.

Rose reached out to him as she saw his pain, practically as a reflex. Her hand rested gently on his chest, and she could feel his heart pound. "You all right?"

He nodded, but swallowed back a knot that was forming slowly in his throat. Rose watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Nah, I'm fine. Go- go 'head. What were we learning in class?"

"Culture," Rose murmured, perusing the sheet of notes she was given by the Muggle Studies professor. "You know, music, literature, art. You apparently did a pretty thorough going over of the British artists, obviously, but you did touch on some other famous people. Your class had started studying this, I guess, at the beginning of the month. Am I right?"

"Mhm, yeah, but I wasn't paying much attention. I had my mind on other things." This comment brought on an awkward pause. Rose's brain was able to fill in the blank. By "other things," he meant her.

"Well, somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"If you were to teach me, I would pay attention." He grinned slyly and Rose had to resist a strong urge to smack him playfully on the arm. Regardless of the intent, smacking him now would hurt him too much. He was still discolored from his fall.

"You would? Oh, good. In that case, I will spend the rest of the afternoon telling you every boring detail of the cultural history of England. And the world over, too."

"Sounds thrilling."

"It does, doesn't it?" Rose smiled. If there was one thing she appreciated about Scorpius, it was his ability to keep his sense of humor despite his situation. "I thought we'd start with music. The more recent things first. Uhm...your class briefly touched on "Pop Idol" and "X-Factor" and their counterparts across the world...basically, it's a singing competition, and people across the nation use the telephone to call in and vote for their favorite contestant. America had a pretty successful version."

Scorpius looked puzzled. "Why on earth would you do something like that? What's the point?"

"Don't you ever get tired of hearing old Celestina Warbeck warbling on the radio?"

"Merlin, do I." He rolled his eyes and looked pained, and Rose couldn't tell if the pain was from a bad Celestina memory or from his own physical pain. It was sort of a secret of hers that she always loved the oldies, _especially_ Celestina Warbeck. She shared a similar fondness for older Muggle music. Rose settled with a giggle.

"Well, it was basically to pick the next big radio star."

"Ah. Interesting."

Rose checked the notes again briefly. "Anyway, you have to know that it was a worldwide thing, and it revolutionized the music industry, and got Muggles further involved with the media."

"Got it," Scorpius answered, taking some of the notes from the pile into his own hands. "What's this?" he questioned, gesturing to a diagram of an iPod. Along with it were very technical diagrams of CDs, CD players, and cassette tapes.

"That's how Muggles listen to music. This is an iPod, and you insert it into a computer- I'm assuming you know about computers." Scorpius nodded. "There's a computer program that takes files of music and puts it onto this device."

"And that circular thing?" He seemed genuinely interested.

"That's a CD."

"A 'seedy'?"

"Yes. It stands for 'compact disc'. It's falling out of favor with the Muggles. They find computers to be far easier. My grandparents- my mum's parents- they got me an iPod once. I should have my parents send it, you'd probably find it very interesting. This other one, here," Rose added, pointing to the cassette, "has fallen out of fashion entirely. It was more commonly used in the nineteen-eighties and nineties."

Scorpius nodded again. "So what's going to be on the exam?" The more technical things about Muggles bored him, or at least, the technical terms. He wanted to see it used, to hold it in his hand.

"A little bit about how everything works, what you use it for, what sorts of music are popular with Muggles now, famous Muggle musicians...but that'll only be part of the exam. We haven't even covered literature yet- there's so much more to go!"

"Then why are you wasting my time with what'll be on the exam? Carry on!" He laughed at Rose, knowing full well why she was telling him what was on the exam. She scowled.

"Right, well, I suppose I should touch on The Beatles, and The Stones. They were both famous worldwide in the sixties and seventies, The Beatles more so. They have the most number one hits of any famous musical artists. I'm quite fond of them, myself."

Scorpius couldn't help but gape at her a bit. "But...they're so...old!" he settled with, not sure what else to say.

"So? Here- I'll get mum to owl me my music, and then you can see it. I'll show you. And then you'll agree with me."

Scorpius smiled. "I'm sure I will. Can you hand me that, please?" he added, and pointed as best as he could to a roll of gauze on the table. "Sorry to interrupt the study session, but I need to re-wrap my hand." He slowly peeled off his current gauze, and more of his battered skin was revealed with every layer he took off. "And that potion, too- I need to put that down first. I have to change 'em every couple of hours. It's a pain, really."

The sight of his injury made Rose worried and a little sad. It looked worse than she had first believed and it didn't seem to be getting better. From her classes in healing, she recognized the fizzing, bright blue potion as a disinfectant. Watching Scorpius remove his bandages made her realize how incredibly inept he was at anything related to his own physical well-being. "Here," she said, moving so she was sitting right next to him, his knees directly to her left. Rose took his hand in hers and slowly, gently unwove the bandage. He gazed at her for a long moment, watching her fingers move expertly back and forth to remove and replace the dirtied cotton.

"Rose," he began, as he suddenly felt a need to speak, "I-I..." And then he couldn't think of why he wanted to talk to her. She was the reason he was in this hospital bed having his fingers wrapped, after all. "Just continue, will you? Go on about literature or plumbing or whatever unimportant thing comes next." Scorpius couldn't easily let on that he was interested by this- not only would he be teased by anyone who knew, but his father would about have his head.

She couldn't help but feel a little wounded herself as she kept wrapping and disinfecting his injuries. It surprised Rose how uncaring he could be sometimes. His mood swings often seemed worse than hers. "Well, you're also studying Shakespeare and Austen and Bronte. You're supposed to read the sonnets and Romeo and Juliet. It's his most famous play. Written around the late 1500s." She tried to keep her speech as short as possible- not only did Rose have a fondness for popular Muggle music, but also older literature. With Hermione Weasley, finest and most well-read witch of her age, as her mother, it was hard not to be fond of literature- Muggle and wizard alike. She would have gone on for hours if Scorpius wasn't so bored. Although he hadn't seemed bored before...

"Late 1500s...wasn't Quidditch invented around the same time?" Quidditch. Now Scorpius would pay attention.

"Oh...well, I used to know, but I don't remember." He was probably right. "Anyway," she added, and tapped his fully-bandanged arm for effect, "that's what you need for your next quiz. Basic musical devices, British musicians, and classic literature. That's all."

Try as he might, Scorpius couldn't abandon his curiosity. "Sonnet?"

"Love poetry, or others, but usually about love. And nature. Fourteen lines, usually, the last two rhymes are a couplet...He wrote loads, Shakespeare did. They're beautiful. Your professor handed them out the other day, and I was only able to get a few...here...um..." Rose shuffled through her stack of papers until she found one with 'Sonnet' written across the top. She handed it to him.

Scorpius read aloud:

"Shakespearean Sonnet 133.

'Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan  
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!  
Is't not enough to torture me alone,  
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?  
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,  
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:  
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;  
A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd.  
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,  
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;  
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;  
Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol:  
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,  
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.'

I don't get it," he finished, not sure what else he could say. Rose, who was staring at him, wasn't sure what else to say either.

"Well, that's- that's Shakespeare, I suppose," Rose said, still unable to move her eyes from him.

"I suppose so." Scorpius took her hand in his good one, lacing his fingers through hers. She swallowed but didn't pull away, and he concentrated on her for a moment. "I think we're..."

"...done with our lesson," Rose finished, biting her lip.

"Are you really going to tell everyone?"

"Saving that for Christmas. You?"

"Long as you're willing."

"Guess I am, then."

"That was a love poem."

"I know."

"I know what it meant."

"Thought you might."

"I love you."

"I- I know."


	11. All I Want For Christmas

Disclaimer: Duh.  
A/N: Thank everyone SO much for sticking with me. I know it's been a long wait, but school is so hectic! Thanks Nick for being the conductor in this chapter. He knows what it means. Also, thanks to those that read and review. Reviews make me grin :) I also got a question about why the kid in the trial is receiving a death sentence, so I thought I'd clear it up- He'd displayed Death Eater behaviors, like practicing Unforgivables on his poor Muggle/Squib parents. The Ministry, in an effort to eradicate any future uprisings like that of the Death Eaters, has taken to executing all people that show signs of maybe starting something up or being into creepy things. There's no more Dementors or Azkaban at this point, so he couldn't just receive the Kiss. Hopefully that helps make things easier to understand...if not, feel free to ask more questions.

_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There is just one thing I need  
And I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you will ever know  
Make my wish come true  
Baby, all I want for Christmas  
is you.  
- All I Want For Christmas, _Mariah Carey

Chapter 11: All I Want For Christmas

The windows of the isolated cottage seemed barricaded in with snow. In the past two days, Ottery St. Catchpole had received no less than six feet of the powdery frozen fluff, and now all twenty-one members of the Weasley clan (complete with two extra Grangers) were jam-packed into the ever-expanding Burrow. It was at once both the most perfect and the worst possible audience to which to give a major confession. Rose would be able to tell all of her family members her secret, and in turn, they were not allowed to leave. However, the fact that nobody was allowed to move even a foot out of any door kept her from escaping at any necessary opportunity, and might open her up to the occasionally brutal rage of twenty-two other prejudiced family members.

What a lovely Christmas.

She had been stepping lightly as if on ice around her family members for the majority of the winter holiday. Luckily, nobody had seemed to notice. Her grandmother had handed her at least seventy different kitchen utensils within the past week, at least half of them enchanted. Grandma Louise, her mother's mother, watched this entire process with wide-eyes. Even though Louise had seen this before visiting her son-in-law's family, it never ceased to fascinate her. Rose felt as if they'd been churning out food at an alarming rate- treacle tarts, trifles, pasties, mince pies, meat pies, roasted duckling, goose necks, rolls, potatoes...eventually she had lost count and let herself work as a cog in her grandmother's amazing cooking machine. It gave her something else to think about, at least.

* * *

The fireplace blistered against the chill of the night air outside. Ten-foot high glass paneled windows were covered in a picturesque crystal frost that was almost easier to see when the sun had set then during the daylight. Scorpius reclined in his favorite chair (the high-backed one with the carved corners), for once left completely alone. His mother had been pestering him nonstop since he arrived home about this girl or that one that she wanted to set him up with ("But Marjorie's gotten so pretty since you last saw her! And her father is set to inherit Dervish and Banges! Stop ignoring me, Scorpius! Your mother is very affronted by your behavior, young man...") and he was delighted that he'd finally been given an opportunity to breathe. His opportunity didn't last long, though, and within five minutes of being able to sit down he was joined by his father, who was cloaked (when was he not) and carrying a glass of wine in one hand.

"Oh, Dad," Scorpius blurted, obviously startled by his father's sudden appearance. "Sorry, I was...just thinking."

Draco sat in his own armchair, his posture quite a bit more straight and stiff than his son's. "It's about your mother, isn't it? I know she can be bloody annoying, but bear with her. She's got your best interests at heart, I'm sure."

Scorpius bit back a snide laugh. "Right, I'm sure she does. Not to mention her Gringotts account. Apparently she wants me for next-in-line at Dervish and Banges."

"Dervish and Banges is an upstanding institution."

"That's got nothing to do with anything." Scorpius reached a lazy foot out to the sturdy, ancient coffee table in the middle of the room. "I just want her to stop pestering me about all these girls. I can find a girl myself, you know. I don't need any of her 'advice'. It's really just getting to be a pain in the arse, at this point."

His father cleared his throat. "Don't talk about your mother that way. Besides, I can't help but agree with her. You just keep finding yourself with trash, Scorpius. Slytherin or not, I do not condone promiscuity, and-"

"We dated for an entire two weeks, Dad. I don't even talk to her anymore."

"I had dates set up for me. Of course, I met your mother on a business excursion, but I do admit that they were beneficial...besides, they all came from wealthy parentage and didn't expect me to _buy_ them things." He snarled the word "buy" in an apparent reference to Scorpius's mother. Scorpius couldn't help but agree.

"But you don't have to worry about that, because I am perfectly capable of finding a girl without any outside help."

"Of course." His father smiled slyly, almost condescendingly. "Well, being that you are my only son and that your mother is itching to set you up with more-"

"Rose Weasley."

* * *

"Pass me the salt, would you?"

"GET YOUR ELBOW OUT OF MY FACE!"

"Be a dear and hand me a roll."

"It's not warm enough."

"What did you put in that? It's delicious!"

"Remember your table manners, Ronald, you're nearly forty-five years old. You'd think at some point I would be able to stop telling you."

"Mum, I dropped my fork. Can you get me a new one?"

"This doesn't have any alcohol in, does it? Oh, it does?"

Amidst all of the chatter of her family, Rose was turning over and over ideas in her head for how to break this surely devastating news to the rest of her family. Sure, her brother already knew, and probably a cousin or so, but to tell the whole family would be painful, and she would have to do it right so as to not cause too much damage. It all seemed so serene- well, not serene, but happy. As happy as her family got, anyway, and to ruin that would be...

...her parents' job.

"You still haven't told them you're lessening the charge?"

"What charge? Hermione, dear, what is he talking about?"

"They don't _know_?"

"Ron, it's nothing they should be worried about. It's dinner. Finish your meatloaf or it's going to get cold."

"Don't change the subject."

"I will change the subject if I bloody well please."

Rose, glad that nobody would be looking in her general direction for a bit, thought harder about what exactly she should say. What she _could_ say. She had only just become comfortable enough in this relationship, only after threatening Scorpius's life by hitting him with the equivalent of a giant flying rock (Bludger was almost a kind way of putting it). How in Merlin's name would she be comfortable enough to share it with the twenty-two who were most concerned for her welfare? They would tell her he was bad for her, she was sure. He was bad for her father, more like. Everything was bad for her father- if he got angry at one more thing, she was sure his head was going to explode.

"Goddamnit, Hermione! You can't be spending your time around these people. This case has been no good for you."

"Don't tell me to quit, Ronald."

"I know, because you'll only start working harder! Damn! And if you have to, why are you letting him off easy? Do you _condone_ the Cruciatus?"

"You know that's not fair. That's horrible, Ronald, and you know it. You got your sleeve in the gravy."

Ron muttered a charm quickly to rid his shirt of the murky brown goop but lost no time in tearing back into his wife. "I still don't understand why you want him to stay around. If he dies, he's an example to everyone else! They're eradicating the movement, Hermione; that's your own department's agenda."

"He's a child."

"So? I knew what I wanted when I was his age. This little bastard wants his parents dead! And you want to let him off! And it's not like we can leave him with the dementors, you know, let him wallow in his own-"

Harry cleared his throat loudly from beside Ron. He didn't agree with Hermione either, but to have Ron talking about dementors at Christmas dinner...

George's eldest, a seven-year-old named Fred, kicked his feet back and forth under the table. "What's a dementor?"

Hermione butted in before his eager father could answer for him. "Never you mind, love. Ask your father on Halloween and he can tell you a story." She glared pointedly in the direction of her husband. "Dementors don't exist."

Rose's eating became more bizarre the more nervous she got. She ripped beef off the bone with her fork, cut a roll into at least fifteen different pieces, and started stirring her mashed potatoes with a spoon. At this point, she had become entirely oblivious to her parents' verbal brawl. Hermione's parents were far from oblivious. Her poor, frail mother looked fearful and her father looked borderline angry- but he looked that way all the time. Muggles did not age half as well as wizards, unfortunately. As soon as she'd swallowed her mouthful of cranberry sauce covered mashed potatoes (she wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing), Rose realized she wanted everyone to shut up, if only for a little while.

She had the perfect opportunity.

"Um, I'm dating Scorpius Malfoy."

There was a sound of a fork dropping and for a moment it was completely silent. The silence, however, didn't last long, and Rose's hope that maybe everything could be all right after all was immediately squashed when her father started choking loudly on a turkey bone that he had inadvertently swallowed during her confession. Her Grandma Molly thwacked her son on the back a few times before looking up at Rose with concerned but confused eyes. "Maybe not the best time, dear?"

* * *

"Excuse me?" Scorpius's mother nearly stumbled into the living room at these words, wearing delicate high-heels, expensive jewelry, and a cocktail dress despite being in the house with no one there but her family. She handed Scorpius a glass of wine before draping herself dramatically onto the lounge. "I'm sorry, it must be the alcohol. What did you say?"

Scorpius disguised a chuckle in a gulp of his drink before giving her an entirely serious look. "I've been dating Rose Weasley since October. I think you'd like her, Mum. Plus, I think you have the same shoe size. So you've already got things in common."

Draco rolled his eyes and propped up his feet up on a footstool. "Well, I can't say I'm entirely surprised. You always have had odd taste, there was nothing your mother or I could do about it." His son narrowed his eyes in a sort of teenage protest.

"Rose Weasley...how many Weasleys are there, Scor? I mean there has to be about a thousand all in that family. Is it true they all have red hair? I thought about dying my hair red once, but your father much prefers the blonde."

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't keep tabs on them, to be quite honest with you. And her hair is sort of red-brown. Not really red."

His mother sighed. "That's a shame. Red hair is really very pretty, if it doesn't do that awful frizzy thing. So," she said, leaning in as if she were about to really start in on the good stuff, "how is that family, anyway? I mean they must be doing fairly well for themselves. Her mother...she's in the paper for things...I don't remember...something...something with juicers and tropical fruit...bananas?"

"Freed the House Elves."

"Right, right. I remember. I remember it all, now. And her father? He must make a lot of money. Wasn't he in a Gladrags ad? Something...oh, something about 'Charm away the old rags, step into some Gladrags?'"

"He's an Auror. And how is it that you can remember that and not that Mrs. Weasley freed an entire race of people?"

"Dear, the news is for stuffy people." She smoothed her light hair off of her pale face. If someone were to drop her in the snow, she would disappear. Scorpius sighed.

"Okay, so we've determined that you're okay with this. Dad?"

Draco shrugged the way his son had moments before. It wasn't hard to tell that they were related. "It's not like I can do anything to stop you, you're probably faster with a wand than I at this point. You don't happen to have any pictures, do you?"

"Not on me currently. Why?"

"Well, I'd like to know that my son isn't entirely insane. At least she's attractive, right? Not too big, not too tall, not too short? Not flat-chested either, I hope. She's already a Weasley, please don't tell me she's ugly, too."

Scorpius concentrated hard on the ceiling so that his parents wouldn't see his face. "Don't worry, Dad, I'm pretty sure she fits all of your requirements."

"Well built?"

"Extremely."

"Well dressed?"

"We wear a uniform. Maybe you forgot."

Draco steepled his fingers. "Ah. Right. What does she look like? Cute? Please tell me she has a straight nose."

Scorpius tried not to think too hard about it with his parents sitting right there watching his every move. "Mmhm," he mumbled, making sure he didn't give himself away. He couldn't exactly say, 'God, yes,' with his mother and father sitting right there. He took a sip of his wine.

His father sighed and reclined in his chair, staring into the fireplace as if looking for the son he wished he'd had. His mother took another slurp of her drink. "Well, at least you'll have attractive children."

* * *

After Ron had hacked up a good amount of turkey marrow and swallowed about a pint of water, he was ready to dig into his daughter. "What?! Sorry, I think you need to repeat yourself. Scorpius _Malfoy?_ Of the _Malfoys?_"

Rose rolled her eyes and picked up a cube of her dinner roll, popping it into her mouth. "Well, he's certainly not of the Longbottoms."

Hermione was grinning and her cheeks were warm. "I think it's lovely. It's about time somebody was getting along." Hugo took this opportunity to snort and then hid behind his christmas cracker at his mother's glare.

"What?" he asked, peering out from behind the edge of it. "Well, they're more than just getting along, I'll tell you that much. They're also getting to know each other. And by that, I mean-"

Lily cut him off. "You are _so_ rude. I think it's cute. But he's so tall, Rose! How do you-"

"What's a Scorpius?"

"Fred, eat your roast. Do you need me to cut that up for you?"

"No, Daddy, I'm all right."

"Way to stay out of this, George."

"Shut up, Ron, you're better than that." Ginny stared admonishingly at her brother.

"Yeah, Uncle Ron," Albus added. "If I had said that to James, Mum'd hex me to China. She threatened to do it once, and-"

Harry, the only one seemingly calm in this situation, other than Hermione's ever-so-clueless parents, interrupted his son and nodded in Rose's direction. "Hey. Do you like him?"

Rose smiled, glad somebody listened. Or cared, you know, whichever. "I do. A lot."

Harry took another heaping bite of his pot roast. "Good. Now that's settled. Can we talk about something else now, _please_?"

Fred looked sheepish and glanced up from his food, eyes wide. "Uncle Harry?" he asked, legs swinging back and forth. "I have an idea."

"What's your idea, Fred?"

"I want to talk about something."

"What?"

He grinned and set down his fork. "PRESENTS!" His little-kid outburst seemed to improve the mood at the table by 500 percent.

Even Ron seemed to be chuckling. He got up from the table and glanced at Rose, tensions from dinner seemingly melted away. His look seemed to say, "I'm happy if you're happy." And he was. Squeezing her shoulder on the way, Ron picked Fred up from his chair and set him on his shoulders. "I think your boy's got it right here, George. I want presents too." Hermione smiled lazily at him, happy for a change in her husband's mood. Hugo nearly kicked over his chair following his father into the living room, glad for presents himself.

But nobody was happier than Rose, who had gotten the best present of all already.

Love.


	12. Trials and Tribulations

A/N: I am back from school hiatus! It was becoming incredibly difficult to write this and do all my schoolwork, and student-direct a play, and such and such and such. I was worried that this wouldn't get finished, but never fear! Complications is back. Hope you enjoy this latest piece. As always, reviews keep me going! Thanks for all your support- I wouldn't continue this if I didn't have readers! :)

much love.

* * *

_Mama mia let me go-  
Beezlebub has a devil put aside for me, for me..._

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?  
So you think you can love me and leave me to die?  
Oh baby, can't do this to me baby...  
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here...

--_Bohemian Rhapsody_, Queen

Chapter 12: Trials and Tribulations

The courtroom was incredibly large and effectively hollow.

Ron couldn't help but feel alone, even though the room seated almost one hundred people. The ceilings arched thirty feet over his head, and the navy and gray stone of the walls made him feel guilty for something and he wasn't the one on trial. With a twinge in his stomach he realized that Hermione had to sit through this on a regular basis. Ron made a mental note to try and be kinder to her on days when she had to appear in court. He'd stood for the arrival of the judge, and then of the jury, which he'd scanned diligently to make sure he didn't recognize anyone that might have a bias. He didn't.

In his swift investigation of the room, his eyes landed on the defendant- Mr. McKeel- and he would be a Mr., just as he would be tried as an adult. Using first names made the case personal, and the prosecution wanted to dehumanize him as much as possible. _Don't think of him as a child. Think of him as a criminal._ He'd wronged. There were no mitigating factors or reasons why he shouldn't be punished just as anyone would in his situation. If only Ron could get his wife to understand.

As the members of the court got the logistics out of the way, Ron idly picked at his nails. There was far too much to think about now to dwell on any one thing. The trial, his job, his wife, his daughter, his daughter's new boyfriend. Maybe he'd dwell on the last one. The idea that Rose, brilliant young woman that she was, would pick a Malfoy above any other boy in the school (why couldn't she have stuck with Will?) baffled him. He'd always been one to trust her judgement, ever since she was small, but now? What made her think he was good enough for her? What little demon spawn of Malfoy's _could_ be good enough for her? Ron had seen the boy before- maybe Rose liked him because he was handsome- he was- but he'd never thought her to be that shallow before. What had he done wrong in raising her that she would choose a boy with a scaly reptile name and a scaly reptile father? What?

It was hard not to notice when the prosecutor stood to make his opening remarks. He was tall and broad, dark and well-dressed. His angular jaw and long forehead made him an imposing figure. Ron's eyes unconciously drifted to his wife, who was quite different in comparison. She'd always been small and slender, but compared to her opponent, she seemed incredibly delicate with her soft features and curls. He hoped he didn't break her, but she'd always been strong. It was strange to root for both sides at once. He'd never been very good at it. He'd learned this when his sister played professional Quidditch for a time and had her first game against the Cannons. That had been the most difficult Quidditch game of his life. And here he was, comparing court with Quidditch, when the prosecutor had started to deliver what was to be a long, loud speech.

"Citizens. Friends. Wizards, witches, muggles, Squibs. We find you all in the audience today, not proud, but in fear. Fear of what has happened once and what can be prevented. You will witness today the case of Mr. McKeel- who has studied history in hopes of repeating it, who has willingly brought pain to those that bring him love, and who understands not the concept of life and that of struggle. You see..."

After about five minutes Ron stopped listening.

"That is all."

He'd spent the majority of the speech thinking about his daughter's new boyfriend (who he'd now termed "that son of a bitch" to alleviate momentary anger) and what his wife was going to say next. Thankfully, the exhausting large man finally sat down and Hermione stood. He watched her fingers drum against the desk, absent of the usual click of her fingernails. She'd kept them bitten low with worry lately. It pained him to see her this anxious all the time, but he still couldn't bring himself to agree with her.

"For the sake of the court and for the time everyone has so graciously donated, I will keep this brief. Dougal McKeel, who has been brought to trial today, is guilty of a crime. But not the crime for which he has been convicted. It is important to take a misbehaving child and punish them. It is important to take a criminal and charge them for the wrongs they have committed. But to take a person- any person- and make them an example for the community at large is not to the fault of that person, but to those in favor of inciting fear and mob mentality. Furthermore, to bring years of shame and hate to a singular party who is merely interested in a specific facet of history is not just wrong- it is also criminal."

Though he didn't always agree, Ron loved to just listen to what Hermione had to say. It was often beautiful and profound and incomprehensible, like sermons or orchestras or speeches given in Latin. She went on for a few more minutes and Ron just listened, not really taking in the words.

However eloquent Hermione could be, she was fighting a losing battle. The prosecutor, whenever addressing the jury, seemed to be preaching to the choir. The small crowd present gasped and ahhed and oohed at the appropriate moments, and Ron could tell his wife was crumbling a little bit under sheer frustration. Hermione's witnesses were mostly Muggles, and as such, were not paid the attention they were due. Even across the room, Ron could see her teeth clench and her jaw set, and he had to fight back an urge to laugh. Stubborn to the end, Hermione was.

After a few hours during which Ron had fallen asleep and had a quite wonderful dream in which he impaled Scorpius Malfoy with his wand, court was dismissed, and he and Hermione exited the Ministry together. The whole way home, Hermione talked Ron's ear off about some part of the proceedings or another, and he tried to listen. His attention was short-lived, however, as he realized something:

Now he had a thousand and _one _things to worry about.


End file.
